2 Carry on Wayward Road, the Road Continues
by skyyador
Summary: What did Sam feel and think about the events that had taken place in Wayward Road? He was concerned about his brother's well being. but, curious at the same time. But, as he enters his brother's world he's in for more than he expected. TRIGGER WARNING very explicit non/con rape, abuse, depression. Read at your own discretion EDITED for corrections and paragraph length
1. Chapter 1

**THIS IS PART 2 OF CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, LEAVE REVIEWS. I LOVE TO WRITE, AND I CAN CHANGE WHAT NEEDS TO BE CHANGED IN MY STYLE. I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ. LEAVE ME ANY IDEAS, LIKES, DISLIKES ETC. ENJOY ADVENTURING INTO SAM'S BRAIN!**

 **CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 1

Once again, we have found our way back on the road. The road that leads to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The past few weeks, hell, the past few months, have been hard on the both of us. I'm just glad to get out of that rat hole of a motel we had been staying in, not that the next place we stay will be much better.

I knew Dean was having a rough time so I chose not to complain about the filth, and the fact the ceiling and walls were literally caving in around us. I was secretly glad we were leaving that place. I knew Dean, nor myself, was ready for another hunt, but I was fine with us just getting away, driving the roads that have become like home to us.

I've become comfortable, safe, sitting shotgun in the passenger seat of the impala. The radio blaring, some crazy classic rock music. The same stuff that Dad used to listen to, I should be used to it by now, but a change is always good sometimes too. My annoying big brother singing along, I'm not sure if he thinks he can carry a tune in a bucket or if, maybe, he just doesn't care, maybe he just sings to annoy me. If so, it works!

After the past couple weeks, I wouldn't dare complain about his music, or his singing. I was just glad to see a glimpse of my big brother showing through again. I settled down in my seat. Unsure of where we were going, or why. There I sat, with my brother's notebook in my hands. Afraid to open it. Afraid to read what was rolling around in that brain of his. That's a scary place, I chuckled to myself.

He has always filled himself with so much self-doubt, so much self-hate. I never understood why. Except, maybe, the fact that Dad made him feel that way. I've tried everything to make him see that wasn't true, but it's like he wouldn't listen to me, like Dad's words rang louder than anyone else's. I was pulled from my thoughts about the past few weeks as I heard the purr of the engine turn off.

"Gotta fill up Baby and ourselves," Dean said, slapping a playful slap on my knee before he stepped out of the car to fuel her up.

The love affair my brother has with his car is a little creepy, and weird. I laid the notebook down in my seat as I stepped out of the car. And walked into the small, convenience store to gather fuel for myself. Once Dean had finished fueling Baby, he joined me inside, grabbing his normal unhealthy food. I don't know how that boy eats the way he does. After we were both satisfied with the road trip snacks we gathered we exited the store and returned to our assigned seats in the impala. The purr of the engine restarting, as we pulled out of the parking lot.

I waited until we had made it down the road a few miles before breaking the silence, "Let's go to the beach."

Dean glanced my way with a slight smile. "My little brother wants to visit the beach, then we'll visit the beach." He said, without an argument.

I noticed he glanced down at my hands, noticing the notebook still tightly closed. I was sure I could sense a sigh of relief coming from him, knowing he was probably a little afraid, or nervous, about me reading it. After just the few things he had admitted to lately, I could understand why.

I sat, staring out the window for a little while, knowing we were in for a long drive, and day light was limited. I sat in thought for a few moments. Thinking of the way Dean had been acting. The pain he was obviously in, the fact he was unable to hide his weakness was enough to make anyone concerned. And the gun. What was his obsession with his gun? Did he really want to end his own life that badly? Or was he just in so much pain he didn't know what else to do? God, please don't let my brother leave me, not like that, not the coward's way out.

How could I possibly think that? How could I think that my brother was a coward? Even if he did choose that way out, he still wasn't a coward. He was my hero! He was the strongest person I knew. He was brave. But, even the strong and the brave break sometimes, even they have a moment of weakness. This was Dean's. This was Dean's moment of weakness. I just needed to be there for him. Make sure he made it through. But how?

How could I do that when he wouldn't let me in? I then remembered I was holding his notebook. The one that contained his very thoughts, and I realized, for the first time since he threw it to me, that he was allowing me in! He was allowing me to see what was inside of him, what captivated his thoughts, his soul, finally. But, that wasn't like Dean. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't sure if I should take advantage of the moment while he was weak to gather some intel on my brother. I knew I probably wouldn't have another chance, not in a long time anyhow.

Realizing the day was almost half over I had decided to take advantage of what day light I had left, after all, he did agree to allow me the biggest chick flick moment I wanted. And he agreed to even interact with me. He told me I could talk, get my feelings out, the entire way if I wanted, but here I sat, staring out the window, in complete silence.

Looking down into my lap I had made the decision to take advantage of this rare occasion. As we headed down the road, to visit the beach as I requested, I opened the notebook, my hands a little shaky, I wasn't completely sure why. I turned to page one and began to read my brother's thoughts. I began the journey of entering his head, of feeling his pain, of finally knowing exactly the way he felt about life, and some insight to the beginning of my life that where shady, that I couldn't quiet remember.


	2. Chapter 2

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 2

As we drove down the long road ahead, I was settled, slumped, in my seat, starting the new adventure that I held in my hands. As I began to read, I chuckled to myself. From time to time, the chuckles would become audible. I noticed Dean would glance over at me, occasionally, I'm sure wondering what I was finding so amusing. I was getting the rare opportunity to see my life through my brother's eyes. As I chuckled out loud again, Dean once again shot a glance my way as he drove his Baby, listening to his old rock n roll. He reached over and turned the radio down.

"What?" he had asked, a slight hint of my brother's innocence showing in his tone.

"Dude," I chuckled. "I was just imagining you changing diapers." I laughed.

"Hey, I'll have you know my diaper changing game is on point." He replied with pride in his voice.

I chuckled again. "You didn't poison me while you were learning how to make bottles did you?" I asked, imagining my brother taking care of a baby without a clue what he was doing.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

"You have a point."

Surprisingly, Dean began to talk, to add to my amusement. "Dude," he said, "I would watch every educational show I could find on tv. I taught myself to read from watching tv. I knew I had to learn how to read the instructions on things to be able to take care of you properly."

I hadn't realized he had taught himself to read, and he did it for me!

He continued, "I even watched daytime tv, which I've never understood why people find that crap so interesting, but I would watch it faithfully, every day, to catch scenes of people with babies, so I could make sure I was taking care of you the best I could. You can learn a lot about baby raising from those crazy shows, you know."

I couldn't help but chuckle again, out loud. My brother watching those crazy shows, to learn how to take care of me. He hates daytime tv.

"Of course," he went on, "pictures helped a lot too, there are always pictures with the instructions on things like diapers and formula." He finished.

"Man," I said amazed at the intel I just received, "I didn't realize you did all that, for me." I know I sounded a little shocked.

"Well, you're my little brother," Dean said, reaching over and ruffing up my already shaggy hair, "there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for you, to make sure you were taken care of."

After that statement, a long pause. I started thinking about how much my brother really did do for me, the things I had never realized before. Knowing I was deep in thought about how my big brother took care of me, Dean broke my thoughts, I was startled a little, but turned my head to look at him, interested, hanging on every word he said.

"I found a book, in the trash one time, it was one of those 'your baby's first year' books. I learned a lot from that. I learned how and when to start you on solid food and milk. I was so thankful when I didn't have to worry about formula anymore."

Wow, he really did take raising me seriously.

"Dad was still figuring this hunting thing out when you were taking formula, he would do little jobs to make some money, until he figured out better ways, but it wasn't always enough to take care of your needs properly. He couldn't understand why I refused to allow him to give you certain foods, or even regular milk."

He continued, becoming lost in his own reminiscing, "I learned how to steal like a pro. I could walk in any store and walk out with formula, or baby food, or even diapers and wipes. I would keep my eyes open for places in the towns we went that would give out free clothes and supplies and make Dad take us there every time I found one, they would give us baby supplies that you needed, as well as clothes, since you seemed to outgrow your clothes almost every day."

Dean chuckled, a quirky smile on his face, "I made sure you were taken care of, I kept you happy and safe. What I couldn't steal, buy, or have given to us I would make for you, or go dumpster diving in the middle of the night. I always made sure you had what you needed." Dean completed.

After a long pause, "Thank you," I said, almost squeaking the words out as I was becoming a bit emotional.

Dean looked over at me, staring for just a few seconds before returning his eyes to the road. "I just did what I had to do. I had to make sure my baby brother was taken care of, and that's what I did. No need to thank me." His voice went from a smirky tone to a more serious one, "I did okay with you as a baby… as you got older… well, I didn't always do so good, that's when I started messing up."

He was serious, he thought he had messed up. I was beyond thankful for my brother stepping up and not only being my brother but also a mom and dad. I loved him for that. I never thought he had messed up. I always thought I turned out okay.

I cleared my throat, "Dean, you didn't mess up." I said, again beginning to get a bit emotional. "You did everything you could, in fact, I didn't realize how much you did do for me." I drew in a long breath and continued, "Obviously, you had to figure things out as you went, we both have, and I'm not going to say you were always perfect, no one is, but you were pretty damn close to being perfect."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with the next thoughts in my head, but my brother was talking to me, he was, for once, open and willing to talk. I didn't want to miss my opportunity to find out everything I could, about him and about myself, I wanted to know about the parts of life I was too young to remember. The parts I thought I hated, despised, but I was enjoying hearing about them, seeing things in a different light this time. As I cleared my throat again, pinching the bridge of my nose for just a moment I broke the silence.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he replied back without taking his eyes off the road.

The sun had begun to go down, darkness was taking over the night. I knew, at least for now, my light to read in was gone, but I had read enough that my head was swirling with thoughts and questions. I continued to ask what I had broken the silence to ask.

"How much did you get," cleared my throat again, not sure of the word to use, so I just used the word I had seen Dean write so many times "punished… for the things you did for me? To make sure I was taken care of?" I knew my words, and sentences, were a little choppy but by the expression on his sunset face I could see he understood what I was asking.

"A lot." he said, once again without taking his eyes off the road.

I could see memories begin to enter his head. Normally, I wouldn't push it, but for some reason, tonight I decided to. "How?" I asked, honestly wanting to know. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know everything my brother had sacrificed for me.

"Sammy," Dean's tone was slightly pleading for me not to ask, and slightly trying to tell me he really didn't want to talk about it. But, he had promised. So, I pushed.

"Dean, please. I want to know."

I heard him release a sigh, take a few deep breathes, hold them, then release them, as his thoughts ran through his head. Slowly, he began to speak.

"Sammy, I didn't care about all the little things. The more Dad drunk," he paused to clear his throat and continued, "the more Dad would drink, the more he would lose his temper. I don't know what you want me to say, Sammy. He would," another clearing of his throat to push the emotions away. "I'm surprised that I have any brain cells left after how many times I got slapped on the back of my head." He stopped again, to gather his thoughts and keep his emotions in check.

"For what?" I asked, completely engaged in the knowledge I was gathering.

Another sigh and throat clearing before he spoke, "For anything, everything," Dean continued, "if you got too loud, 'keep that damn kid quiet while I'm trying to sleep'" Dean was mocking Dad's voice as he repeated the words he had heard him say on several occasions.

"It was always something with him, I just came to expect that." He continued, still never taking his eyes off the road, I'm sure partly so he wouldn't have to look at me while he spoke. "If the room we were staying in was messy, or smelled like dirty diaper, or if, God forbid, I gave you a bath before Dad got his shower." He stopped on that one, shaking his head, remembering something he didn't want to say through the drawing of his brows and tightness that appeared on his face.

"What does that mean?" I asked, hoping he would tell me what he was thinking. "What would happen if you gave me a bath first?"

"Sammy," again his poor attempt at getting me not to ask questions he didn't want to answer. "Okay, fine." He said. "You want to know? You want to know everything?"

He continued with frustration growing in his voice. "I didn't expect Dad back as early as he came home. It was getting late, I knew I had to get you in the bath and into bed. Dad had gone on one of his drunken nights on the town. We were in some shitty motel room. So, I gave you your bath. It was just a bath, it didn't take much water because you were so small. And, I knew the water would warm back up and be fine for when Dad came back. But, he came back before I expected. I was almost done. I had already cleaned you and washed your hair. I was sitting on the floor, beside the tub, letting you play for a little while before getting you out when I heard Dad come stumbling in. All the noise he was making, I knew he was lit. I was going to hurry and get you out of the tub, so we were out of his way, but I wasn't fast enough. He came storming into the bathroom, yelling, demanding why I had you in the tub, knowing, or I guess him thinking I was supposed to know, he was wanting to take a shower, clean the girls of the night off him."

Dean paused, wiping his hand over his face, then continued. "I started to apologize, tried to explain myself and how I needed to get you to bed. He said he didn't want to hear my excuses. He knocked me on the floor, grabbed me, and slammed my head against the side of the tub. I'm not sure if I lost consciousness or not. But, I remember seeing the long, thick line of blood running from where my head hit the tub to where I laid on the floor. I…"

He drew in a long-ragged breath, "I tried… I tried to continue to apologize, he wouldn't hear it. Every time I tried to speak he would just kick me, or grab my hair and slam my head against the floor. I figured out pretty quick to stop talking. I got myself up, I remember the blood from my head dripping to the floor. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and stuck it to my head, hoping it would collect the blood so it wouldn't drip on you, after all, I had just cleaned you off. I grabbed a towel, unplugged the tub, wrapped the towel around you and held you tightly in my arms as I pushed my way past Dad and to the bed. The entire time, he was pushing or hitting me. Once I got you onto the bed and out of the small bathroom, Dad didn't follow, I remember…"

He paused again to clear his throat and gather his emotions, I'm sure this time when he wiped his hand down his face it was to dry some tears. "I remember," he continued, "hearing him relieving himself in the toilet. I quickly got you dressed and told you to get up in the bed and bury yourself under the covers. I placed the covers over your head. I told you to go to sleep. To not come out from the covers. I told you it was a game. You had to hide. It was a game of hide and seek from Dad." A small smile came across Dean's face. "You sure did enjoy playing your games." He said. "Sometimes I would tell you it was a game and you would be more than happy to play it, when really, I just needed you to hide from something, or get away from someone."

I continued to listen, continuing to be amazed by the ways my big brother kept me safe. He wasn't concerned about himself. His head was busted open, with an angry dad in the room, and he was concerned about keeping me clean and hiding me so I couldn't get hurt, or worse, so I couldn't see what Dad was going to do. so I didn't have those memories etched in my brain forever. And, he did it in a way that I enjoyed. He still wanted to keep me happy, even if he was going to get the crap beat out of him, he wanted to make sure I was okay.

"It didn't take long after that for Dad to come out of the bathroom," Dean continued. "I knew you were hidden, safe, so I took the rest of his rage like a champ. Then he went and showered. I checked my head in the mirror, getting a rag to place against it to stop the bleeding, and I laid in bed next to you. You were already asleep by then. I knew I didn't feel right, I didn't know what a concussion was back then. But I knew something in my head wasn't right, and I knew I had to be there for you, Sammy. So, I pretended to be asleep, so Dad would go to bed and sleep off his drunkenness, but I remember, I remember because it sure as hell wasn't easy, I remember keeping myself awake the entire night, not allowing myself to go to sleep. The craziness in my head didn't go away at all that night, but at least the bleeding had stopped at some point. I… I just…" his words started to trail off. I could tell he was ready to stop. That he couldn't talk about it anymore. I had already heard what I wanted anyhow, so I was okay with it.

"Dean,"

I had broken the cold silence again. Noticing the night had completely taken over the skies. The darkness surrounding us for hours. My body feeling a bit cramped, Dean was shuffling in his seat too, although I wasn't sure if it was from his emotions or discomfort of the car's seat.

"Yeah," he replied with a low voice.

"Let's stop and get a room. My body is starting to feel stiff and I could use a decent bed to sleep in after those lumpy beds at the last place."

"Sure, sounds good to me. Besides, Baby's gonna need some more fueling before too long anyhow."

We drove to the next town and stopped at the cheapest motel we could find. Parking Baby outside our door, to give her a rest, we both grabbed our duffle bags and shuffled our tired bodies into the room. Ready for another break from the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 3

As the door closed behind us, Dean collapsed face first onto the first bed we came to.

"I'll shower in the morning" he mumbled from the covers his face was pressed against.

I thought about the story he told me about Dad's shower and sorrow fell over me. I had wondered if he ever thought about those things. If, especially after freshly reminiscing on it, if he would be flooded with emotions if he showered. I sat on the edge of my bed, contemplating if I wanted to ask him or not. I cleared my throat and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Dean?"

Dean's voice became clearer and louder as he rolled from his stomach to his back, "Sammy, I really don't wanna talk about it anymore, okay? I'm just tired. I haven't slept good in, hell, I don't know how long, I just want a good night's sleep. I'll talk to you more in the morning, if you want, but for now, I just want to sleep."

He pushed his boots off and then his pants, making his way under the covers in his t-shirt and boxers.

"Okay." I said, a little disappointed. The disappointment must have shown in my voice as I heard a sigh come from Dean's bed.

He rolled over to face me, not attempting to remove himself from the covers, or lift his head off the pillow. "Sammy," he said in a low, compassionate tone. "I…" he started, stopping to calm his emotions. "I don't let…"

I could tell he was searching for the exact right words.

He continued, "I try not to let things bother me, okay? Yes, sometimes they do. Sometimes, memories sneak up on me out of nowhere. But, after all these years, I have learned how to push them away." He stopped talking for a moment, looking at me, locking into eye contact, he continued. "Yes, okay. The answer to your question is yes."

I was taken aback a little, how did he know what I was thinking? How did I know he was answering the question I was thinking? My thoughts must have shown on my facial expressions.

"I allowed myself to open up, to pour out stupid memories, and feelings." He sounded annoyed at himself. "It's too fresh in my head, if I took a shower… now… the memories…" he stopped again, not breaking eye contact, but still searching for the right words through his stuttering. "The memories would hurt. Okay? I've gotten used to it. Used to dealing, or pushing away, the memories and all the pain that goes with them. But sometimes, I just want to avoid them, and this is how I do it." He reached over, turned his side of the light off, and rolled back over, back facing me.

"Night, Sammy."

"Night, Dean." I replied, unsure of anything else to say.

I had gotten up and made my way to the bathroom. Once I stood in the shower, hot water pouring down on my tired body, I began to think of what Dean had said. I started looking down at the edge of the tub, imagining my brother's blood streaked down it, all because he took care of me. I brushed the thoughts and sadness away as I finished my shower, quickly, realizing what Dean meant about avoiding thoughts and feelings.

Once I was finished and had stepped out onto the cold tiled floor to dry myself and change into a clean pair of boxers and t-shirt, I glanced at the floor and the wall across from the toilet. I thought about all the times Dean must have sat in a similar spot, trying to keep himself together, trying to hold back the memories, and everything that came with them. I then thought about the incident in the bathroom just the night before. When I was sure he came so close to ending it all. I had to uncock his gun and make it safe again from where he had it with him in there. I wondered if motel restrooms were a trigger point for him.

Again, I shook the thoughts and finished getting ready for bed. I quietly made my way to my bed and slid under the covers, turning out the rest of the lights in the room. I could hear soft breathing mixed with slight snoring coming from Dean's side of the room. I knew, finally, he was asleep, and by the sounds of it, he was getting some much-needed restful sleep. I, on the other hand, couldn't seem to find my way to dreamland so easily.

I kept thinking about what I had read in that book, the thoughts of my brother. And the conversation we had while he drove. He was so open and honest. That was not a normal trait of Dean Winchester. He keeps himself closed off, keeps all feelings at bay. He doesn't let any weakness show, ever. But then again, he hasn't been himself lately, maybe this was his way of trying to find himself again. Letting everything out so he can be himself again. I loved my brother. I love him even more now that I have seen into the struggles and sacrifices he made for me.

At some point sleep must have overcome my thoughts. I was startled awake by a loud noise. It took me a moment to figure out what the noise was or where it was coming from. I was obviously in a deep sleep. I then noticed the sounds were coming from Dean's bed. He was having a nightmare, again. Oh, how I had hoped he would get an entire night of good, restful sleep. I quickly slid myself from my bed and sat beside him on the edge of his bed.

"Dean," I said quietly, hoping to pull him from his dream without totally waking him, or startling him. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder when I didn't get a reply. "Dean?" I said a little louder this time, giving his shoulder a slight shake. "Dean, bro, wake up" I said a little louder with a little harder shake when there was still no reply.

He was moaning, like he was in pain. His face tightened up, his eyes tightly closed, his fists balled as tight as they could go. Arms stretched, locked beside his sides. He tossed his head back and forth, taking small breaks before he would toss it to the other side. I'm sure he would have been doing more than moaning if his jaw wasn't locked so tight. I hated to wake him, I knew how much he needed his sleep, but I also knew how much he needed restful sleep, and this was not restful.

I raised my voice and gave his shoulders a violent shake.

"DEAN! Wake up, man. You gotta wake up for me" I said as he fluttered his eyes opened, after a couple flutters his eyes opened wide.

He shot up to a sitting position. I could tell he was confused and not sure exactly where he was at or what was going on. He glanced around the room with quick eye movements, then locked his eyes on me. Staring at me, deep into my face, into my eyes, for only a moment, but what felt like forever. I could see the emotionless expression on his face, but so much emotions in those deep green eyes of his that were still opened wide. He then pulled his hand up to his face, closing his eyes as he slipped his hand down this face, wiping the sweat from his dreams off his skin. Taking some long drawn out blinks accompanied by some deep breathes.

"Sammy?" he sounded a bit confused, "What's the matter?"

"You were having a bad dream, man."

"What?"

I repeated myself knowing he heard me this time.

"D… Did I… um… did I say anything?" he stuttered, still trying to find his composure.

"No. You were just moaning and looked like you were in a lot of pain. Wanna talk about it?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be, but still asking anyhow, hoping maybe I would be wrong.

"No" Dean answered, seeing my disappointment he added "I don't really even know what it was about. And, I don't want to remember what it was, not right now. I just want to try to go back to sleep." Adding, in a playful matter, "Since my annoying, pain in the ass little brother decided to wake me up and disturb my sleep, I'm going to dream of a room full of sexy, half naked girls, but this time I'll make sure I talk in my sleep." He wiggled his eyebrows in delight as a mischievous smirk spread across his face. He reached out, scuffing up my bed head, "Now go back to sleep, Sammy, before I decide to tell you all about my room full of sexiness in the morning." He chuckled.

"I'm going" I quickly replied as I jumped from his bed. I did not want to hear anything about that part of his brain. I slid back in my bed as Dean settled back into his, as I reached to turn out the light,

"Dean? You okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine, now go to sleep"

I allowed myself to slip back asleep after I heard the comforting sounds of my brother's soft snores coming from his bed. I hoped this time he would be able to stay asleep, even if he was dreaming about half naked women. That was better than the nightmares that have been plaguing his dreams lately. I smiled, knowing that parts of my brother were still shining through even through his darkness. I allowed my body to relax with that thought, knowing everything would be okay. Darkness quickly overtook my head as I fell asleep, feeling peace for the first time in weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 4

On some days, mornings come way too soon. I blinked my eyelids a few times before squinting them back closed. The bright lights of the morning peeping through around the curtains, shining into our room. Dean must have finally gotten the restful sleep he needed because I could still hear the soft snores coming from his bed, as he laid bundled under the covers. I couldn't blame him, if it wasn't for the bright sunshine shining on my face I wouldn't be awake either.

I slipped quietly out of the bed and over to the window, carefully pulling the shades closed around the edges where the sun was shining through. Dean needed his sleep and I didn't want the light to wake him. I picked up the notebook he had written in as I made my way back to my bed. I snuggled back under the covers, the morning air feeling a bit chilly, propped myself up on the pillows against the headboard, and began to read.

I read some more pages full of memories from my childhood. I read about how Dean always felt responsible for not only me, but our father too. I read about how he would get "punished" if he wasn't the good little soldier Dad expected him to be. I knew he never had a proper childhood, but reading the words that filled his mind saddened me. I hadn't realized just how grown he had to be. How much responsibility he had to take on.

He wrote about Dad training him. How he would beat on him to "make him tough", he said. I read the words "Good little soldier" more times than I could count. He wrote about a time Dad told him if roles were reversed, if it was him as a baby and not me, that he would have left him there to burn in the fire with Mom. "You're worthless", "You can't do anything right", "Dumb, sorry excuse for a human", "waste of good air", were the words I read, the words Dean wrote, the words Dad had said.

I wanted so bad to just run over to my sleeping brother and hug him, as tight as I could, and never let go until he could see how much he means, not only to me, but to the world, how many people he has saved. I wanted so badly for him to see himself as the hero that I saw. I wiped away the tears as I sat and read how he would care for me, make sure I had everything I ever needed, just to get beaten for it, just to be told how worthless he was.

Dad must not have seen what I see in my brother. I don't understand how he didn't see how awesome his own son was. I heard movement and glanced over to see Dean roll over, changing positions in his sleep, I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but I didn't want to wake him. So, I continued to read the heartbreaking words that were written from the mind of my brother.

"Boy, how many times have I told you to shut up?" "You're worthless, you can't even follow a simple direction." "You need to toughen up, boy, you're weak. No boy of mine is going to be weak! Maybe you should have been a girl? Is that what you want? To be a sissy girl, Deannie?" All the hate that was poured into Dean from a young age, no wonder he kept himself locked up tight.

I was reading about one time he was taking care of me, being the mother he was forced to be, and Dad stumbled into the apartment we were staying at. Dean had tried to make sure everything was clean and orderly. He kept me clean and fed, even if that meant he didn't eat or bathe. He was cooking me supper when Dad had stumbled in. He recalled how Dad just laughed at him for standing at the stove, fixing me food, mac and cheese he thinks it was. Dad started telling him how he was nothing but the woman of the home. His job wasn't to hunt, like a man, it was to be a good little "girl" and stay home, cleaning and cooking.

He made him strip his clothes off, putting on a kitchen apron, he made him wear nothing but the apron for the rest of the day. He recalled how Dad continued to laugh at the girl he had created, how ashamed he felt, how dirty and low he thought he was. He wrote about how he silently cried that night, after putting me to bed, he said that was the first time he had thought about not wanting to live anymore. About how he wished he had burned with Mom the way Dad wanted.

"Sam?"

Dean startled me through the silence. I hadn't realized he woke up, or how many tears were running down my cheeks. I quickly wiped my hand down my face in attempt to dry the tears before I turned to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching me intently, concern on his face. Concern for me, his little brother, concerned that his pain through life was too much for ME. I cleared my face and tried to dry the tears once again, a pointless act since they continued to fall.

"Dean? Um, sorry, I didn't know you were awake." I said, apologizing for the tears I was allowing to fall, for the heartbreak I was feeling.

"No need to apologize" Dean said with concern in his voice. "You okay?"

He continued glancing down at the notebook in my hand and back up at me. I knew he didn't know what part I was reading, but there was no mistaking that it was hurtful. I didn't answer him, how could I? Obviously, my lack of response added to his concern. I closed the notebook. I couldn't read anymore now that Dean was awake.

"Sam, talk to me bro." Dean said, still full of concern. "Sam?" He repeated, as he stood from his bed and sat beside me on mine. He placed a gentle hand on my arm that sat in my lap, holding the closed notebook. "What'cha reading?" he asked.

I reached out with my other arm and wrapped it around my brother's neck, pulling him into a hug. He didn't resist, normally he would resist, unless he knew I really needed it, which, at this moment, I did. He wrapped both his arms around me and held me, while I let myself go, I buried my face in my big brother's shirt and let myself cry, and he let me. Once I regained my composure I tried to apologize again but was stopped before I could finish.

"Are you okay now?" Dean asked, still full of concern. "Look, Sammy, you have nothing to apologize for, okay? It's okay. I know, I lived it, I know." He said with saddened eyes locked onto mine. "I'm sorry" Dean continued. "I didn't mean to upset you, Sammy" he apologized. Dean was apologizing to me for the pain he was forced to endure.

"Dean," I was finally able to speak without tears streaming down my face. "Dad… he was an ass." I said. Not sure what else to say. "I don't understand" I continued. "I thought you loved him?"

"I did, I do." Dean replied without hesitation.

"But how? How could you love someone who treated you like crap?"

"Because, Sammy, he's our Dad."

Like that answer was supposed to make any sense to me. He must have noticed the confusion on my face as he continued.

"You have to understand, Dad may have had his own way of doing things, some good and some not so good, but that doesn't mean he didn't try his best. That doesn't mean he didn't love us. He did. No matter if he knew how to show it or not, he still loved us."

Dean stopped to take notice if he was making any sense, if I was understanding what he was saying. When he noticed that I was understanding he continued.

"I don't know what you read that upset you so much, but I promise you, I made it through stronger. I'm a better person because of the things I was taught. That doesn't mean either of us have to agree with the method that was used, but it served its purpose, it made me who I am today. It made me a better person, a better hunter."

I couldn't disagree with that. He was a pretty awesome person, in my eyes anyhow. I certainly didn't agree with methods that were used.

"Dean," I said in a low voice, "Do you… did you… really wish you would have burned… in the fire… with mom?"

I stumbled the words out of my lips, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. Dean took a moment to answer, I could see the thoughts running through his head, figuring out what he had written, figuring out what I had read. He wiped his hand over his face, I took the moment to help him out with his thoughts.

"You said… you said that Dad wished you had burned in the fire and…" I paused for just a moment to keep myself composed. "And the day, the day that Dad said… he said you were just a girl, not a man… you said you wished you had burnt with mom." I completed, feeling my eyes fill with tears, again.

"Sam, just because I may think something doesn't mean it's true. I know, that doesn't make sense," he continued, trying to clarify himself, "I think a lot of stuff that I don't mean. There have been several times in my life that I've wished I didn't have to live anymore, this moment in my life being no exception."

I couldn't believe he just admitted that. He, obviously, couldn't believe it either, as I could see a moment later the surprise on his face, but that didn't stop him from trying to comfort me, to reassure me that he was fine.

"I couldn't, Sammy, I couldn't leave you like that, especially when we were young." He said, lowering his voice with his thoughts, "I couldn't leave you alone with Dad. I never would have done that to you. It may have been better, for both of you if I did… I don't know, honestly." He paused to take in a long, ragged breath, "But, I had to keep you safe, I had to take care of you. I couldn't trust Dad to do that. Even if he never raised a hand to you, even if you didn't hear the hurtful things I heard, Sammy, I couldn't trust that man to make sure you were taken care of." He completed.

"Dean,"

I said, clearing my throat, not entirely sure what to say. My brother was going through one of his darkest moments in his life, that I have witnessed. And, here he sat concerned about me, making sure I was okay, not giving a thought to himself.

I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, "Dude, you need to shower, you smell funny" I said in a playful tone.

Dean rolled his eyes at me, "Bitch" he said as he stood from my bed.

"Jerk"

He gathered his clothes and made his way into the bathroom. I was thankful for the reassurance he had given me. I was thankful that he brought me back to reality, but, I also needed a moment to myself, to finish gathering my thoughts and composure. A part of me felt guilty, like I was making my brother go back through the pain of his past just to satisfy me. I felt like I was causing him grief he didn't need. Hadn't he already sacrificed enough for me? Now I'm asking for the remaining of his sanity. I didn't even notice the shower water turning off, or my brother coming out of the bathroom. I looked up, and there he stood, staring at me.

"You gonna lay around all day?" he asked.

I shook my head no in reply, but really, I would be okay with just staying in bed.

"Well then, get up princess." Dean joked, "I'm starving let's go get some food" he said as he walked toward me and gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder to get my attention. His way of making me physically move when I didn't feel like moving. I slid out of bed and got dressed. "Hey Sammy?" Dean paused to make sure he had my attention. "You wanna continue down the road or stay here another night?" he asked, making sure I was okay.

"Whatever you wanna do." I answered, I had already put him through enough agony I didn't want to force him into doing anything he didn't want to do.

"Nope. It's all up to you, princess." He smirked as he opened the door to our motel room. "Let's decide over food, I'm starving."

I agreed with that decision as we left the room I had found so much comfort in and headed to the local diner. Once inside we sat in a corner booth. Ordered our food while Dean flirted with the waitress, hoping to get a piece of free pie. I was thankful that my brother was acting more like himself, but as I sat there, in thought, I realized that was just it, he was acting, to protect me, like he always has.

Somehow, he managed to always put on a quirky smile accompanied by some smart-ass remark to make sure he protected me from what he was truly feeling. It hadn't been 48 hours since my brother, the brother that meant the world to me, sat on the bathroom floor with a gun to his head. There was no way he was this happy, this carefree, that quickly. I began to wonder how much pain he buried his whole life. How much he suffered and no one ever knew, not even me. I had learned his reactions to things. I learned how to read him when no one else could, but what was there that I hadn't learned? That I had never seen, never noticed.

"You done?" Dean said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?"

Dean pointed to my half-eaten plate and repeated himself, "You done?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm not that hungry"

"Want a doggie bag? For later?" Dean asked, I'm sure he was just talking to try to keep me focused on the present.

"No, no I think I'm done."

Still feeling a little dazed from my loss of thoughts. Dean paid the pretty waitress, I noticed he had an empty plate in front of him with the remains of pie on it, he must have been able to con his way out of some pie, I chuckled to myself. After he was done with his goodbyes to the waitress we walked out of the diner. I blindly followed, still half lost in thought, I hadn't realized we walked into the local liquor store till we were already inside and Dean was handing me a bottle to hold.

"What are we doing in here?"

I was honestly confused why we would be getting liquor if we were heading back on the road. Then I realized we had never talked about it, never decided if we were staying or going. Dean handed me another bottle to hold before answering me.

"Well," he said, loud enough I could hear him but not so loud that anyone else could hear. "I figure, judging by the way you are acting today, that we need to stay another night, and I'm sure it's going to be a long night full of chick flick moments." he slowly shook his head, like he couldn't believe his life had come down to so many feely moments. He continued, "So, I figured we could both use some of this." He finished as he held up a bottle in reference to what he was talking about. We walked to the counter, he paid the cashier and we headed back to our room.

Once we had walked inside our room I sat on the edge of the bed, still appearing half dazed. Dean cracked open a bottle and handed it to me. I didn't even know what time it was. The diner wasn't very busy when we were there so it must have been either between breakfast and lunch or lunch and supper. It was still light outside so it couldn't have been that late. Didn't matter anyhow. I gladly excepted the bottle of hard liquor as I took a big swig of it. Feeling the burn go down with the liquid. Dean had pulled a chair from the small table in the room and placed it in front of where I sat. He had settled himself in the chair, with his own bottle in his hands, he took his own big swig,

"Okay, Sammy. Talk to me, no bullshit bro, what's going on with you? What's got you bent so out of shape?"

I wasn't sure how to answer him. I took another large drink of what he called liquid courage. Then another drink, it did help a little. But, I still wasn't sure how to speak right now.

"I just…" I paused, "I just need time… to think… okay?" I finally managed to squeeze those words out.

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Then think out loud. Dude, I need to make sure my obnoxious brother is okay. I need to make sure that I"

He paused, taking a big drink before continuing, "that I haven't caused you… I don't know… Sammy, I don't want to upset you, or make you sad, or mad, or anything. Okay? I just… I allowed you to read what I wrote in that stupid book because I thought it would help you in some crazy way. I know how you are. I know you run on feelings and emotional crap. So, I foolishly figured, it would help, that you would be okay with it. Obviously, I was wrong. And for that I apologize."

He paused for another big drink. "Sammy, look at me" my head hung low, looking at the floor, I slowly lifted my head, tears in my eyes and I looked him in the face. "Sammy," he continued as he gently reached his hand out and wiped the tears that dripped from my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Sometimes I screw up. Sometimes I screw up worse than other times. I guess… I guess this is one of those times."

He cradled my chin in his hand after he wiped my tears, he wanted to make sure I continued to look at him, that I heard the words he was saying. With his eyes beginning to water he continued.

"I would take it all back if I could. I don't know what I was thinking. Why I would possibly think that getting into my head would be good for anyone. Hell, I don't even wanna be in my own head most of the time." He let out a slight chuckle to himself as he took another drink to moisten his throat. "I don't know what to say, Sammy, except I'm sorry. But, now, I need you to talk to me. Okay? I need you to really talk to me. I need you to let me inside your head now. Please Sammy."

I pulled my face away from his hand, took an extra-long guzzle and prepared myself for another chick flick, girly, feely melt down.


	5. Chapter 5

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 5

"I'll start" Dean said, sensing my uneasiness with my emotions, for the first time that I could remember.

He took another long drink, finishing off his bottle of whiskey and opening a new one.

"I don't regret a thing," he started, "I don't regret doing what I had to do. I don't regret taking care of you. I don't regret giving up my childhood for you. Sammy, I need you to understand that."

He made sure he drew my attention back to him. "Do you hear me?" he asked, "Do you really hear me?" he repeated as I slowly nodded my head yes. "I need you to understand what I'm saying, Sammy, I need you to understand. I have my own demons, my own skeletons I need to deal with. I know that. I know I've avoided them my whole life. But you, Sammy, you are not one of them! You are one of the only things I've managed to do half way right." He stopped to take another drink.

"Dean," I said quietly, in response to what he just said, "You've done a lot of things right. You sell yourself short way too much. That crap… that crap Dad said... the crap he told you about yourself your entire life, well since Mom died anyhow, none of it is true. If you want me to really hear what you're saying then I'm asking for you to really hear what I'm saying."

I was hoping he would listen with his heart this time and not just ignore what I said. "I've looked up to you my whole life. You, in my eyes, you're the tallest man I know. You're the strongest man I know. Even when you have moments of weakness, you still look strong to me. I never realized, until now, how much crap you took, and every day it seems I realize more and more that you had to endure. Dean, that only makes you seem that much stronger. I can really see it now, I can see the strength you have. The strength to push on, to continue in life, to do everything you need to do."

I stopped, to both dry my eyes and take another drink, this time I completed my bottle, as I reached for another I realized Dean was on his third bottle of whiskey. It was still daylight out, but I could tell the sun was beginning to go down. It wouldn't be long and darkness would fill the skies once again. The long drawn out silence almost became more than I could bare, until finally Dean spoke up,

"Sammy, I just… I just don't see it. I'm sorry but I don't. I don't see strength in myself the way you do." he cleared the lump in his throat as he continued, "When… when I look at myself, I see someone who is barely getting by. Someone who is a failure. Someone who holds so much weakness. A fake. I see a fake when I look in the mirror, Sammy. I'm not the person I try to make everyone believe I am. Dad was right."

His voice lowered, sadness filling his tone, "Everything Dad has ever said about me, he was right. He knew me better than anyone. He watched me grow. He saw my weaknesses and my strengths. He built me into who I needed to be, but even though he's gone, I'm still trying to become that person. And, Sammy, I've even failed at that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. There's no way Dad was right. There's no way Dean was that big of a failure. "NO DEAN!" I almost shouted, without meaning to, I lowered my voice. "No, Dad was not right. He tried to build you into the person he wanted, yes, that I'll agree with. But, the person he wanted you to be isn't who you really are. And that's okay. It's okay not to be his perfect little soldier. It's okay to let yourself show through. Yeah, there's times we've had to be tough no matter what we were staring down. There's gonna be times in the future we will have to be strong, no matter what, that's how we stay alive, but when we aren't facing down the monsters of the night, it's okay to be yourself, to let go, to show your weakness, to have feelings, Dean. It's okay to have feelings. And, it's okay to show them. When something hurts, physical or emotional, it's okay!"

I was just rambling, spilling words out of my mouth, not even sure what my point was anymore. I'm sure I was sounding like a broken record, repeating myself over and over, but once the words started flowing it was hard to make them stop. I didn't want to make them stop.

"Dean, you have taken more physically than anyone should ever have to take. And, emotionally, well, just from what I know as of right now, you've taken one hell of an emotional beating too. It's not fair! It's just not fair! It's not fair that you raised ME, Dad's son. I'm not your son, I'm John Winchester's son, and he couldn't even raise me. He couldn't stick around long enough to watch me grow. He was only around enough to get drunk and torture you. It just wasn't fair to you. You deserved so much better. I am the man I am today because of you, not Dad, you, Dean. I wouldn't have had a chance in hell if you wouldn't have been there for me. And how does he repay you for taking care of his son? By belittling you? By beating on you? By forcing you to do everything he wanted, exactly the way he wanted it done. And if you didn't? You would be punished, or worse, you would be trained harder. Which I honestly don't see a difference in."

I stopped only to catch my breath and take another drink. Dean didn't try to interrupt. He sat in the chair, listening to me, or better yet, allowing me to vent, I'm not sure if he was listening, I didn't care if he was or not. I needed to get this off my chest and I'd be damned if I wasted the opportunity Dean gave me to do so.

"I hate him for that Dean" I continued. "I honestly hate him. I can't even begin to imagine everything that went on behind closed doors, things you kept hidden from me. You always made sure you were upbeat and positive around me, especially when I was little, I don't know how you did it. I, I honestly don't. I mean, yes, I know I was young, but Dean, so were you. You were just a little boy yourself. And you took the crap from Dad like a grown man! A 4-year-old should not be raising a baby, you shouldn't have to. A 5 or 6-year-old shouldn't have to take care of his drunken father AND raise a baby. You shouldn't have to fear your own father returning and taking his anger and frustration out on you. You shouldn't have to know how to make games, making hiding fun, so I didn't see what was really going on. A little boy shouldn't have to listen to how worthless he is."

I stopped again, to catch my breath, my anger was starting to get the best of me. I couldn't sit still anymore. I stood from the bed and began pacing back and forth across the room. Dean still sitting, calmly, in the chair, allowing me to continue, not trying to stop me or even interrupt what I had to say.

"Damn it Dean!" I could feel my blood starting to boil. "How? How could you let him do that to you? How could you accept everything he said, everything he did, and not stop him? I don't get it! I just don't!" I didn't mean to get mad at Dean, but he was the only one there, and I had to let my rage out somehow, on someone. "Do you really not see how much better you are than that? I mean seriously, Dean, you must see it. You can't be dumb enough to believe everything that crazy man has said to you! If you do, if you believe him, then you're dumber than I thought!"

I didn't really mean to call him dumb, God knows he's heard that enough in his life. But I didn't notice him even flinch when I said it. If he did, I didn't notice. I took another drink, still pacing the room, stopping at moments, in front of Dean, to accuse him, to his face, of being a failure for allowing himself to experience pain. The very thing I was upset about, I was also causing, but I was so angry I didn't stop to realize this, not until later, until after I calmed down. I continued,

"I mean what kind of man allows someone to, not just someone, not just anyone, but his own dad, to make him strip naked and dress like a girl? I mean seriously, how the hell could you allow that? How could you just do whatever he wanted? Did you like it?"

I asked him that question, as I stopped pacing, leaned down inches from his face, rage filling me. He just sat there. Didn't answer my question. He just sat there, he raised his bottle to his mouth and took another drink. That just enraged me even more! I didn't mean to, God knows I didn't. I was so angry. When he took a drink instead of answering me, I slapped the bottle out of his hand, hard enough it flew to the wall beside Dean and shattered. I didn't even care to notice if there was any reaction out of him. I'm sure there wasn't. His dumb ass just sat there, not even responding. My blood boiling red hot by this point. I heard him rustle the bag and open another bottle.

"DID YOU?" I repeated, yelling, screaming at him this time. I wasn't sure when my body had started shaking, but I noticed that it was by this point. "Did you enjoy being Daddy's little girl? Did you enjoy being mommy? I bet you did, I mean you didn't seem to want to stop it, did you? Damn it Dean! Answer me! I want to know did you fucking enjoy it?" I screamed inches from his face again. This time he didn't try to take a drink, he sat his bottle on the table beside him instead.

"I did what I had to." was all he said, in a calm, even tone.

I didn't even let him finish, I finished the sentence for him, mocking him "to take care of you, to make sure you were safe. Yeah yeah yeah, I know Dean, that's what the fuck you always say! Was I that much of a burden? That you had to allow all the shit that happened happen? Just to take care of me? Was I really that bad?"

When did I start blaming myself? When did I start thinking of myself as a burden? I knew that wasn't true. I knew Dean didn't have a choice in the life he was handed. But, for some reason, at this moment in time, I felt like he did. All I felt was anger. For everything. From everything. Everything I had ever kept bottled up was coming out at this moment. And my brother just sat there, allowing it, just like he did with Dad.

"Are you that sorry of a person that you can't even defend yourself?" I asked as more rage built. "I mean you sure as hell couldn't defend yourself against Dad, but now you can't defend yourself against your little brother either? You're pathetic! Pathetic little Dean! Don't give a shit about yourself. Maybe you should just blow your fucking brains out, I mean, wasn't it just a couple nights ago that you wanted to? I know your sorry ass hasn't grown a set of balls since then. Oh, that's right, girls don't have balls."

Where was this coming from? I was sounding just like Dad. Had I always sounded like him? I'm guessing Dean was finding it hard to hold his composure, or maybe he just had to pee, he was on his fourth or fifth bottle of whiskey, but he stood up and started heading to the bathroom. When I felt like he was walking away from me I could feel the anger rise even more.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" I yelled at him.

"To take a piss, Sammy"

"Like hell you are, get your ass back in here." I yelled as I followed him to the bathroom.

The fact I was having to follow him and he wasn't stopping like I had commanded him to do infuriated me! I didn't mean to, God knows I didn't. I was filled with so much rage I couldn't think straight, not until I saw my brother's blood streaked down the side of the tub, pooling on the floor around his head, had I realized what I had done. In a fit of rage, as he walked in the bathroom, with me hot on his heels, I had come at him with a fist full of rage, right in the side of his face, causing him to fall to the floor, striking his head on the edge of the tub. He laid unconscious on the floor. I'm not even sure how long he had laid there before I was able to gather myself enough to realize what had happened, and to realize my brother needed help. Judging by the amount of blood pooled around his head, I'd say it was longer than just a few minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 6

"Dean"

I was barely able to squeak the words out once I had come back to my senses. I quickly knelt beside my brother's lifeless body.

"Dean, hey man, wake up, I'm sorry, okay, I'm so sorry, I need you to wake up."

I repeated a few times as I shook him harder each time. No response. What the hell had I done? I completely lost myself. My brother sat there, calmly, allowing me to let out all the rage I had bottled up inside. Oh God, the things I said to him, and he just sat there, letting me say what I needed to say. He didn't even say anything when I smacked the bottle out of his hands. He never once tried to interrupt me, and this is how I repay him? He was still breathing, still had a pulse, that was a good thing. I grabbed a cloth and pressed it against the gash in his head to stop the bleeding. Still no response. Damn it Dean, wake up, please! No matter what I tried I couldn't get a response from him. Panic had set in. I'm sure it was more so because I hadn't completely regained myself yet. My brother had been knocked unconscious several times. There's no telling how many concussions he's had. As I knelt beside him, taking in the sight, I thought back to the incident he had told me about, about how Dad had hit him, knocking his head against the tub, because he was taking care of me. Regret filled every ounce of my being. I wasn't any better than Dad. I took my rage out on Dean, physically, verbally, when all he was doing was trying to take care of me. After a few more attempts without any response I picked my brother up over my shoulder and carried him to the bed. Laying him gently on his bed, removing his boots, pants, and outer shirt. Leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt, the way he liked to sleep. His head on the pillow, his body covered with the blankets on his bed. I sat beside him, holding the cloth to his head, praying for the bleeding to stop. He had lost so much blood already.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the bleeding had slowed enough from the gash in his head I was able to gather the supplies out of our bags and stitch the gash together. While I was putting the stitches into my brother's head I began to see signs of life, signs of painful stimuli. That was good. Meant he was coming back around. Which scared me a little, how could I face him? I was sure he was going to hate me, not only for knocking him out, but for the words I said as well. After I finished stitching him up and cleaning the wound I stood up, to give him his space, and sat on the edge of my bed, across from him, so I could watch him and make sure he was okay. Did I really ask him if he enjoyed being a girl? Seriously, who asks someone something like that? How did I let my anger get so out of control? I wasn't sure what I hated myself for more, the words I said, or the physical outburst I had. As I sat there thinking I had lowered my head into my hands. My elbows resting on my knees. I was feeling exhausted. The emotional high I had just experienced left me drained. But I couldn't sleep, I couldn't leave Dean's side, not till I knew he was going to be okay.

I was snapped out of my selfish, self-pity, thoughts as I heard Dean began to moan. I was on my feet in a matter of seconds and sitting beside him on the bed. "Dean?" I said in a low, even tone, trying not to let him hear the heartache I was feeling. "Dean, you with me man? I need you to wake up. You hear me?" I sat there for a moment but didn't get a reply. I moved back to the spot my bed, waiting for more signs of life coming from my brother's lifeless body. I had lost myself in my self-pity, again. Resting my head in my hands the same as before.

"You…"

Dean's words snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw the concern on my brother's face. Not the hatred I thought he would have. Not concern for himself, concern for me,

"You feeling better?" HE asked ME!

He was still concerned about my feelings. Even after everything I had done, he was still concerned about me. "Oh my God, Dean," I squeaked out as I stood and made my way, sitting beside him on his bed. "I'm so sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to. God knows I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry." Dean stopped my rambling by placing a trembling finger over my mouth.

"Is that a no?" he said, this time when he spoke I could hear the pain in his voice. The tiredness overwhelming his body.

"Dean," I said, so heartbroken, "man, don't worry about me." That was all I could manage to say. But Dean, my big brother who always looked out for me, wasn't happy with that response.

"The answer is no, Sammy" Dean said.

I was confused, my brows wrinkled up, "huh? What are you talking about?" I asked him.

"No," he continued. "I did not enjoy it."

My God! He was answering my question from earlier! He was still so concerned about me, he didn't even stop to acknowledge his own injuries. I cleared my throat as Dean let out a groan as he pushed himself to a seated position, leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Dean, I didn't mean that. I know you didn't. I'm so sorry." I started to rattle on again but stopped myself. "Please, Dean, just worry about yourself right now, okay? You have a pretty nasty gash on your head" I said as he reached up to feel his head. He gave me a slight smile that I'm sure took a lot of effort to push out

"Well, looks like you already took care of that" he said as he felt the stitches I had closed the gash with.

"Yeah" I said, shameful, it was the least I could do, after all, I was the one who caused it.

"Sammy,"

"yeah?"

"Know what the worst part was?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was talking about the question he had answered or something else. I must have shown my confusion because he clarified himself before he continued, "about Dad telling me I was a girl?"

"No, what?" I replied, I still couldn't believe my tough as nails brother was still willing to talk about this, still trying to make sure I was okay.

"He got lonely, a lot." Dean started, "I mean you know how the hunting life is. It's just you, and your partner if you have one. I was Dad's partner most of the time. So, it was basically just him, and us." He adjusted his body, I'm sure by the twinge on his face he adjusted himself to relieve pain he was feeling. He continued, "at night, not all the time, just sometimes, after you were asleep, sometimes I was already asleep and he had to wake me but sometimes he would catch me before I fell asleep, sometimes before I made it to bed." He stopped for a moment, to clear the lump forming in his throat that came up with the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. "He told me… he… he told me I was better than any girl. He… would tell me to join him, in his bed. I always made sure you were asleep first. Sammy, I did what Dad wanted to make sure he didn't treat you like he treated me. That's why I didn't question him. That's why I never tried to stop him. He, we, never had intercourse, it wasn't like that, and I was too young to get anything out of it. It was all for him, not me, anyhow." He started to stumble over his words. I could tell this was one of the hardest things he had said over the past few days. The hardest thing for him to admit to. "Dad would, umm," he continued "he would usually just make me give him a hand job. I got pretty good at that and it didn't bother me so much, but sometimes…. Sometimes he would… uh… make me… use my… use my mouth. I hated that, Sammy. It would always make me sick to my stomach. I always threw up after. He would gag me, he was usually drunk so he didn't care if I could breathe or not, usually I couldn't, I would take any opportunity to grab a gasp of air. I hated it, Sammy. I did. There was nothing about being 'daddy's little girl' that I enjoyed." The fact that he repeated the words I had said to him during my outburst felt like a knife stabbing me in the heart. "So, the answer to your question is no".

I felt so ashamed at that point, even more than I had before. "I'm sorry Dean, I shouldn't have asked you that. I was angry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I knew you didn't enjoy anything. And, I don't blame you. You didn't have a choice, I know that, Dean, I'm so sorry. And, I'm sorry I took things a little too far. I'm no better than Dad." I said with my head hung low, admitting to him that I was no better than the man I hated just moments before.

"Hey," Dean said, pointing at his head, "you mean this thing? This is nothing, it happens, don't even worry yourself about it." He had closed his eyes during his last few words, pain and tiredness obvious.

"Do you need anything right now?" I asked him, hoping I could help him, even if in a small way.

"I would'a woke up with a headache anyhow" Dean slurred out, referring to all the whiskey he had drunk while I vented my rage.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would have." I added. "I'll get you some ibuprophen, maybe that will help some?" I said as I stood to get him a glass of water and some pills.

He sat, leaned against the headboard, with his eyes closed, his arms were propping him up and were starting to tremble. I walked back over, handing him his water and pills. "You think you're okay to go to sleep?" I asked, concerned about the concussion I was sure he had. After swallowing down the pills he answered me,

"I'm fine, Sammy" his normal response to everything.

"I'm sorry Dean." That was all I could manage to say. Like it was the only thing that mattered. I wanted to make sure he knew I was truly sorry, that I didn't mean to take things so far.

He allowed his shaking arms to give way and, with my help, slid himself back down into a laying position, head on his pillow, I covered him back up, checked the wound on his head and the swelling accompanied by a purple bruise forming on the side of his face where my fist hit. Concern forming with the water filling my eyes. I was mostly concerned my brother was going to hate me. I wouldn't be able to handle it if he did. I had decided I needed to stay awake the rest of the night, just to make sure my brother was okay.

"Go to sleep Sammy" Dean mumbled,

"I'm good"

"I'm fine" Dean mumbled back. Honestly, I was feeling exhausted. Way more emotions hit me today than what I could handle. "Hey Sammy," Dean mumbled again.

"Yeah?"

"If you're just gonna sit there all-night staring at me then why don't you come lay down in this empty spot beside me, that way we can both get some sleep."

Dean's suggestion shocked me. But I was all too happy to do what he suggested, but first, I had to know, I knew he was tired. I knew I had pushed us both past our limits but I needed to know. I got up and made my way to the other side of his bed, bringing my own pillows as he was using his to comfort his aching body. I sat on the bed and made my way under the covers.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you hate me? I would understand if you did, I would deserve it if you did." I stopped as I felt my brother's arm reach out and lay across my stomach, attempting to pull me closer but not having enough strength. I helped him with what he wanted and scooted myself over until we were laying side by side, without a gap between us. He wrapped his arm around me, adjusting himself to a position of comfort, using my body as support and comfort for his.

"Sammy," he finally answered. "I love you man, shit happens, I know that. When I realized how much rage you were holding inside, I made the conscious decision to allow you to release it. I let you say whatever came out of your mouth. Yes, some of it was hard to hear, and some of it I knew deep down you didn't mean. But I chose to allow you to continue without interruption. That was my choice and I need you to understand that. I could have stopped you at any time, but I didn't want to. I wanted you to feel better, to say what you needed to say so you could move on. After you started to yell at me, I expected it. The fact you slapped the drink out of my hand didn't surprise me. After that, I waited, expecting more physical rage to surface. I did not expect to wake up with a large gash in my head, but I was expecting something. I knew it was coming. But, I also knew you needed that release. I don't hate you, there's no way I could possibly hate you. No matter how much of a pain in my ass you are, you will always come first in my book."

He rested his forehead on the side of mine. I could tell it was to help relieve some pain but also an attempt to comfort me. An attempt that worked. I had no words to say. I had said them all already. I tightened my arms around my brother's arms, thankful he was going to be okay. Thankful I had such an amazing, understanding brother. It was only a moment after silence filled the air that it was replaced by the soft snores of my brother, a sound I was all too happy to welcome. It didn't take long after that comforting sound filled my ears that darkness overcome and filled me as I joined my brother in much needed sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **WAYWARD SOUL**

CHAPTER 7

Sam was speechless. He didn't have the answers his big brother was looking for. He wasn't sure how to forgive someone. He wasn't always happy with his life. He hated the way he was raised, but he didn't experience the same fate Dean did. He wasn't beat on. He only knew love, that was all Dean's doing. Dean made sure Sam knew he was loved. He made sure he knew he was protected and safe. When he had nightmares, after finding out what their dad really did, Dean was always there to comfort him. Always there to reassure him when he was scared. Dean taught Sam how to hunt. He taught him with love and patients. Sure, he got irritated at times, they were brothers, after all, but he never truly raised his voice at him, or his hand. Dean never inflicted the violence on Sam the way their dad did with Dean. Sam turned out okay. He was a great hunter, that just proved it wasn't necessary to have so much violence in teaching. Sometimes, their dad would make them fight each other. He would pull over somewhere in the middle of nowhere, either a big pull off space on a gravel road or an open field, and he would make them fight. Dean knew what his consequences were if he lost, but he wasn't going to beat his brother to a pulp. He used the opportunity to really teach Sam how to fight. Sure, Dean could have beat him every time, he was trained well enough he could have killed him with his bare hands, but instead, Dean used it as training opportunity, he made sure Sam understood the moves to make, understood his opponent's moves. He let Sam get the best of him most of the time. He would take his punishment from Dad, knowing it was for Sammy, to make him who he needed to be. It wasn't just about strength and endurance, not to Dean, not for Sam, it was about smarts too. He wanted to make sure his little brother used his head when he hunted. Dad had taught Dean how to take the pain, which only led to reckless behavior. Dean was lucky he hadn't gotten himself killed yet, especially after their dad told him how to make sure he got hurt during hunting.

Sam cleared his throat, "I don't know" he answered Dean's question. "I don't know how someone even survives the life you had, Dean. I don't know how you aren't some broken down shell." Dean quickly raised his eyebrows then released them, his way of responding to what Sam had just said, his way of saying that's all he is, a broken shell. "Dean, you… you have survived so much, and you keep fighting, even when you don't want to, you keep going, you fight through. I don't know, maybe that's how you forget? Maybe that's how you forgive? You, in your own way, show the person, in this case Dad, that you are better than the way they treated you. You're better than that, Dean. And every day that you continue to fight, you just prove that more and more. Every day that you push on, you leave your past a little further in the past. You move past it. You don't let it control you." Another eyebrow raise from Dean. "What?" Sam asked, wanting to know what Dean's thoughts were on what he just said.

"Sam, I do let it control me. Everything I do is Dad screaming in my ear. I do everything exactly the way he taught me, I still follow his every command, even though he's gone. I still allow him to control me."

"Dean, no, no you don't. Don't you see that man? Yeah, sure, he's going to be shouting in your ear, for years to come, you don't just forget everything you've been taught, but there's a lot of things you do that would have Dad rolling in his grave, you might do a lot of things the way Dad wants, but you also do a lot the way you want. You have branched out, became your own person, well, have started to anyhow. Don't you see that Dean?" Dean was hanging on every one of Sam's words. Right now, he felt like he had nothing else to hang on to. Nothing else holding him together, nothing but Sammy.

"Hey Sam," Dean spoke, "Will you finish reading them? I want to know what else Dad thought" Dean was almost childlike, full of fear, scared of the uncertainty that the words held. He always loved his dad. He was his dad, he didn't have a choice, he hated the things he did, the things he allowed to happen, but he loved the man. He was always sure that his dad loved him too. There were hints in his words that he did, but he also always knew he loved Sam the most. He couldn't blame him, Sam was awesome. Secretly, Dean felt pride in how well Sam grew up. He was proud of the amazing man he had become.

"Do you wanna take a break first?" Sam asked, "maybe get some more sleep?" Dean sat on the corner of Sam's bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands, he just shook his head no as a response. In fact, Dean was tired of sleeping, he was tired of the nightmares that plagued his dreams.

"You can sleep, Sammy" Dean replied as he stood from the bed, "I'm going to go check out the storage room while you sleep". He started putting his boots on, he looked like an emotional wreck.

"Dean, we can do that later, why don't you try to get some sleep again?" Sam suggested. Sam was exhausted and wanted to sleep as well.

"It's okay little brother, you get some sleep, I'll be back in a while." Dean said, picking up the keys to his baby.

"Do you really think you're in any shape to drive?" Sam asked, concerned about his brother's current state of mind and how much he had to drink. Dean, annoyed at Sam for pointing it out, sat the keys back down,

"fine, I'll walk" Dean replied as he walked out the door.

"whatever" Sam said out loud, to himself as he laid his head on his pillow for some much-needed rest.

Dean stopped by the liquor store on his way to the storage room. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. He wanted so badly to curl himself up in the memories of this room and live forever. He missed his mom more than anyone could imagine. He missed the happy little family they once were. He looked through the boxes, saw papers their dad had kept of Sam's accomplishments. Straight A report cards, student of the week, school pictures of his snaggled tooth little brother. Sam looked happy, he really did, he looks relaxed and stress free in his pictures. His eyes, they didn't hold a care in the world. There wasn't much in that box that belonged to Dean. No surprise there, he didn't ever like school, didn't do good at it, in fact the only thing of Dean's in the box was his GED that he got after dropping out of school to hunt with his dad. Another box, it held old bills, old electric and water bills, house payment receipts, all from his childhood home. It also held the papers from when his parents had bought the home when they first married, and papers from where it was sold after Mary died. It had the fire marshal's investigation papers, and all the reports about that night. There were pictures, pictures of the window in their home, covered with black ashes, the glass broken out, pictures of inside the nursery, everything burnt, his mom's little remains, a piece of her burnt night gown, both in the pictures and in the box. It was secured in an evidence bag inside the box. Dean picked it up and held it in his hands, he was holding a piece of his mom for the first time in a long time. He wondered if that's why his dad kept it? So, he could have a piece of his wife, the only piece that was left. He carefully placed it back in the box and slid it back on the shelf where it came from. He then found a box of letters, some love letters John and Mary had written back and forth. Some from when they were dating and some from after they were married. There were little papers with hearts and pictures drawn on them. As he looked through the box he found an envelope, it was labeled 'to Dean, from Dad. To be opened on your 18th birthday' Dean picked up the letter and sat on the floor, carefully opening the envelope, he began to read.

"My dearest Dean, we brought you home from the hospital today. I couldn't believe it, I have my own son! You were such an easy delivery for your Mom she had an easy pregnancy with you. You only made her sick just a little at the beginning. I loved to watch you grow, watch your mom's tummy grow. I'll always remember the first time I felt you move. I was rubbing your mom's stomach and you kick my hand. You felt so strong, I knew right then that you would be a boy. I didn't have a doubt in my mind. Your mom, she didn't care either way, as long as you were healthy, I agreed, but secretly I really wanted a boy, and here you are. You have such a sweet, soft cry. You don't cry often, but when you do, it's the cutest thing. I love to sit and watch you sleep, it brings so much peace to my busy life, so much calmness. Your mom, she recovered just fine after having you. She's a trooper. She's such a good mom. She loves you so much. My sweet Dean. I love you so much! I couldn't ask for a more perfect boy. I'm not sure where your life will lead you, what you will become when you're older. But I know you will make me proud. I know you will be amazing at anything you do. Perhaps, you will play baseball or football? Or maybe you will just enjoy being outside, climbing trees and tinkering with cars. The possibilities for your life are endless. You have a world of possibilities out there, just waiting for you. I know you'll embrace every moment, every opportunity that comes your way. I'm excited, and a little nervous, to see what life holds for you. I'm sure we will have our fights, I'm sure we will have a lot of disagreements, but it will make both of us stronger, son. I want you to know whatever life holds, the good and the bad, I will always be there for you. I will always love you. Even the times that it may seem I don't care, I do. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me! My sweet, sweet Dean. I just hope you know how special you are. I hope, as you grow, you never forget that you are special and you have a purpose for this life. You can make a difference in the lives of many, all you have to do is believe in yourself. I believe in you. I love you son. Always remember, I love you. Love, Dad"

Dean sat there, tears running down his face, shocked. Unbelievable. He couldn't believe what he had just read. The first words of adoration, the first words of love that he could remember his dad saying about him. This, this is what he had been searching his whole life for! This is the confirmation that, at least at some point in his life, his dad loved him. Not only did he love him, but he was proud of him, and he believed in him. He believed Dean could be anything, could do anything. He had the utmost faith in his oldest son. Dean gathered his bottles, both empty and full and took the letter with him, locking the door back, disposing of the empty bottles in the trash, he walked back to the motel. When he stepped inside, Sam was sleeping. He didn't even respond when Dean walked in. Quietly, he removed his boots and sat on his bed, he had leaned himself against the pillows on the headboard, taking a few more drinks, finishing the bottle he had been drinking on, he sat, in the silence, staring at the envelope that he held in his hands. Tears dripping down his face, he sat there, motionless, speechless, until he started to doze off and darkness crept in, leaving him slipping further from the day and into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 8

Dean healed in record time, according to the doctor, but I knew he was mostly acting for the sake of getting out of that place. Hospitals have never been Dean's favorite place, I couldn't ever figure out why he hated them so much. I didn't mind being in the hospital, it was a break from life, to me anyhow.

I drove the car to the front door as the nurse wheeled Dean out to where I parked. I couldn't help but chuckle at the face Dean made when the nurse didn't give him a choice but to sit in the passenger seat. He couldn't handle when I drove his Baby. After Dean had been admitted to the hospital I had went back and gathered our belongings, knowing I wasn't going to leave him, there was no point in paying for a room we weren't using, plus, I wanted the memories of the that room put in the past.

"Wanna head out of this town?" I asked Dean as I headed out of the hospital parking lot.

"Whatever you want." Dean replied. He had settled, slumped in the seat, I'm sure he was pouting because he couldn't drive.

"You feeling okay?"

He didn't reply, just turned and looked at me, nodding his head slowly.

"I mean, you okay to ride, at least to the next town over? Get the hell outta this town." I clarified myself.

"Yeah, head to the beach, Sammy, that's where you wanted to go anyhow, so let's go. I'm good." He said as he settled himself into his seat a little more, placing his jacket on the side window to give himself something padded to lay his head against. "I gotta close my eyes, just for a few, okay?" Dean stated. Was he really asking me if it was okay that he rest? Of course, it was okay. Why wouldn't it be? Was he afraid something would happen if it wasn't? "My head is spinning, Sammy" he added.

"You sure you're okay to ride?" I asked, making sure his head wasn't going to bother him too much.

"I said I'm good." He replied as he leaned his head against his jacket and closed his eyes.

I found myself mindlessly driving down the road, passing the next town, and the one after that. My brother sat in the seat beside me, sleeping, making small movements adjusting himself for comfort, letting me know he was okay. I wondered what he was really feeling. If he was upset at me. If he blamed me for putting him in the hospital. I had almost killed him. It was an accident but still, it was caused by my anger, and it was almost life ending for him.

I wasn't completely sure that he was healed up well enough to be traveling. But there was no way he would ever admit to that. I'm not sure if he would even admit to being upset at me. He had said he wasn't. He said he forgave me, but I wasn't sure there wasn't some anger toward me that he wasn't admitting to. I was mad at myself, why would I expect him to not be mad at me? I'm not sure how long I drove for, the day had turned to night and I was still driving. Driving and thinking. Until Dean pulled me out of my thoughts, again.

"Where are we?"

"I'm not sure" I chuckled, "somewhere down the road." Yeah, I knew it was a smart-ass remark, and that's the way I meant it.

"smart ass" Dean said under his breathe.

"How's your head?"

"Alright right now. Let's stop and get some food, I'm kinda hungry"

"sounds good to me" I replied. As I pulled into a local gas station. "Baby needs some fuel anyhow" I added. Dean remained in the car while I filled her up, then drove to a diner nearby. "Wanna stop here for the night?" I asked Dean as we stepped out of the car and walked toward the diner.

"I don't know." Was all he replied.

He was a man of little words right now. I wondered what was going through his head. How much hurt, if any, he was feeling. We sat in a booth seated by a window that looked out toward Dean's car. It also looked out in the direction of a decent looking motel. We ordered our food, I had noticed Dean didn't even make eye contact with the waitress. There was something bothering him, I didn't have enough nerves to ask him what it was. The last time we had tried to talk didn't end so well. Dean only half ate his burger, without the normal love affair he seemed to have with his food. I let out a big yawn, hoping to make a point that I was tired and needed to rest.

"I'll drive." Dean said.

Like hell he would! He just got released from the hospital with a serious head injury. "um… Dean," I cleared my throat. "I'm not sure if that's such a good idea."

He looked up and gave me a hateful look, "It's my car, I'll drive it if I want to".

"Okay" was all I could say. After all, I was the one who put him in this situation. "You done?" I added.

Dean pushed himself off the bench, "Let's get out of here" he said, grabbing the keys.

I hurried to pay the bill and followed him out to the car. He seemed to feel a little more comfortable behind the wheel. He pulled out and drove down the road. I wasn't sure where we were going. But I didn't ask. I kept an eye on him, making sure he was okay to drive.

"Stop."

"huh?"

"Stop staring at me Sam. Stop looking at me like I'm a freak. Like there's something wrong with me. I'm fine. I really am."

"Dean?" I started to ask but stopped, afraid to continue.

"What?" he said, wanting me to continue what I had started asking.

"I'm sorry."

"You've said that, 20 times already."

"Are, um, are you mad? At me? Do you hate me? I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you did. I hate myself. It's okay if you hate me too."

I stopped talking when Dean quickly whipped the car to the shoulder of the road, slamming his breaks, placing the car in park. He turned to me, a little frustrated, a little concerned.

"Sam, I want you to listen to me, really listen." He said, but the fact he was calling me Sam and not Sammy gave a little ache in my heart. "I. Do. Not. Hate. You." He said slow and clear. "I love you, I'm not mad, I expected you to have an outburst. I allowed this to happen. I allowed you to go as far as you needed, to help you, so you would be okay. I know I've told you this before, but obviously, you didn't listen. I need you to listen this time, okay?"

He stopped waiting for the nod of my head, showing that I was hearing what he was saying. He then continued, "I know the fact I ended up in the hospital was a complete accident. I know you didn't mean to cause any serious injuries. I know if you could take it all back you would. But, the thing is, I wouldn't let you, you needed that release. I know you did. You needed to let out every bit of everything that you let out. The words, the physical actions, everything." He paused for a moment before asking "Do you feel better?"

"Besides the fact I almost killed you? Yeah, I do… thank you." I answered.

"Good." Dean replied with a slight smile, nodding his head like he was agreeing with his thoughts. "Then we continue on."

"Continue where?" I asked a bit confused.

"We continue down the road." He replied. "From this point on, everything up to right now, is in our past, we leave it there. And, we continue, down the road, and see what our future holds for us." He added as he put the car back in drive and pulled back onto the roadway.

I just couldn't leave well enough alone, I kicked myself after asking, but, I was sincere with my question, "Is it that easy?"

"No." Dean said as he shot a glance my way then placed his eyes back on the road, "it's not." He paused, I could see his mouth twisting to say something before closing again. I knew he was trying to figure out what to say that was trying to come out of his mouth, perhaps looking for the right words. "It's not that easy," he finally said "but, you figure it out, the same way we do with everything else in life." He paused again as he quickly rubbed his hand down his face.

"What do you have to figure out?" I asked, mental facepalm as soon as the words exited into the silence. Dean shook his head while he licked his lips, a sign that said he wished I hadn't asked, but now that I had he felt obligated to answer, and answer truthfully. He took a couple deep inhales followed by long exhales before speaking

"I have to… learn how…" another deep inhale before finishing, "to trust… again." He paused, wiping his hand down his face again. "I have to learn how to trust again, Sammy." he repeated. I was glad to hear him call me Sammy again but not happy to hear what he had said. What did that even mean?

"Dean?" I wanted the answer to my question without asking it.

We were driving by a small lake and Dean pulled off the roadway onto a dirt pathway that led behind a line of trees and toward the lake. He put the car in park and turned off the engine. I knew this was where we were going spend the rest of the night.

"You want the back seat or the front?" Dean asked.

"Doesn't matter" I replied, "you can have whatever is more comfortable for you." I added, knowing Dean felt most comfortable behind the wheel of his baby.

I made my way out of the car and back to the trunk. I pulled out the blankets and pillows we kept back there, one for each of us. I sat in the back seat, tossing Dean his pillow and blanket. As we both stretched out over the seats of the car, Dean broke the silence with what felt like a knife to the chest.

"I have to learn to trust life again, Sammy. I have… I… I have… I had this crazy fear, for the longest time," once he figured out the words to use he stopped stuttering over them, "I've had a stupid fear of those crazy, small, dirty motel bathrooms." He said. Stopping to swallow the lump rising in his throat.

"Why?" damn it Sam! How could you be so stupid? Why can't you just leave well enough alone? Why do you have to keep pushing him?

Dean cleared his throat, "Because, so many things, so many bad things, have happened in those tiny rooms. They would always cause me anxiety and, I don't know, claustrophobic?"

Once again, I couldn't just drop things, I had to keep pushing. "Is that why we aren't staying in a motel tonight?" I asked. Well, that got Dean's attention. He sat straight up.

"Sammy, it's not your fault, do you hear me?"

When he stopped talking I didn't hesitate to break in, "Well, is it?" I asked again.

"Yes. It is. But, Sammy, it's because I have some personal stuff I gotta deal with. It's not you, you hear me? It's not you… it's… it's a combination of a life time of crap… that, yes, it was brought back to the surface, because, once again… well, I hate those little rooms. But I'm not blaming you, I can't blame you Sammy. You didn't know, so I can't blame you for my crap."

His words left me speechless. I had expected his answer to be yes but I hadn't expected him to go into so much of an explanation, once again to make sure I would be okay. "okay" was all I could reply to him.

"Sammy, we'll stay somewhere tomorrow night, okay? All I'm asking is that you give me just this one night, just one night to deal with my crap, okay?"

"Yeah, Dean, Yeah. You can take all the time you need, Dean. I'll try not to push you anymore. I'll try not to keep asking stupid questions."

"Sammy, don't, please?" Dean pleaded with me, "don't change who you are, don't stop being you because I have crap I gotta deal with, you hear me little brother? Don't ever stop being you, no matter what. If you push me too much, too far, I'll stop you, don't worry about that okay? So far, you haven't reached that point." He laid back down, "Now go to sleep Sammy,"

"Yeah, I'm going" I added "Besides, it sounds like you're becoming delirious from lack of sleep" I said in a playful way as I adjusted myself for comfort.

"Yeah well, it's better than the pain in the ass you're becoming" he chuckled, "Night Sammy"

"Night" I replied as I closed my eyes and darkness filled my head. I was asleep before my brother's snores hit my ears. Another day closed in the book of our lives.


	9. Chapter 9

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 9

I was woken by the sound of my brother scrambling to get out of the car. He had thrown himself onto his hands and knees as he emptied his stomach contents on the ground. I followed him as quickly as I could and knelt beside him, placing my body against his to help support him as he rocked himself to a seated position.

"Dude, are you okay?" I was stunned, not sure exactly what had happened.

"Yeah, just sat up too quickly and my head started spinning, making me sick."

We sat there for a moment, while he allowed his head and stomach to settle, then he started laughing. Not a half laugh, not a chuckle, but a real full laugh.

"What?" I was confused on what was so funny.

He stretched his arm out, panning his hand across the sky in front of us. "Dude," he said with a chuckle, "This is awful romantic." He continued to chuckle to himself. I took note of what he was talking about and began laughing myself.

We were sitting beside a dirt path that led to the river. Before us was a clear body of water, the sun rising, making a glistering rainbow of colors covering the waters. The trees' leaves were starting to turn a golden color with the change of the season approaching us. And there we sat, I was half sitting, half leaning on the ground, my brother leaning against my chest.

"Dude," I chuckled, "all we need is a glass of wine and a picnic basket and this would be the perfect date." Dean laughed at my comment. We both sat there for a little longer. "When's the last time we watched a sunrise?" I asked. "I mean we are always up before the sun, or with it, but when's the last time either of us actually stopped to admire it? It's beautiful." I paused, to enjoy the moment and silence. The birds were waking, chirping in their trees.

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean replied. "Probably never." He added after a quick pause. We both sat there admiring the beauty in front of us. "Alright." Dean said with a pat to my leg, "Chick flick moment over, help me get off the ground."

I couldn't help but notice he had waited until the sun had finished rising before ending the moment. I got up and took my brother's hand to help him stand. It took him a moment to let his head settle before he could walk without wobbling. "Here, bitch, you drive" he said in a joking tone as he threw me the keys.

"Jerk." I replied as I caught the keys midair, I knew if he was handing over the keys he felt worse than he was letting on. I sat in the driver's seat, starting the roar of the engine. "Guess I gotta figure out where we're at since you decided to get us lost last night." He knew I was joking with him, but he really didn't know where we were. Not that it really mattered since we didn't have an exact destination anyhow. I drove till we came to a town.

"Wanna grab some grub?"

Dean, who had been sitting, quietly, his head leaned against the pillow he placed against the side window. He had been drifting between asleep and awake for several hours.

"Yeah sure." He half mumbled.

We pulled into a place called 'Granny's Cooking'. Figured nothing would be better, everyone has always talked about how good their grandma's cooking is. I noticed Dean stumble up the first step as we made our way inside, cursing himself for not picking up his foot high enough. We were the only ones there so it didn't really matter how much Dean stumbles. There was one older woman who told us where to sit and took our order, and there was a man standing behind the counter cooking. I ordered a grilled chicken salad and Dean ordered his normal cheeseburger. We were both looking around, noticing this place looked like a ghost town.

"Ma'am," Dean spoke when she returned to our table with our drinks, "my brother here got us lost last night and I was just wondering if you could tell us what town we are in?"

Yeah, sure Dean, tell her I got us lost and not you.

"Well, sweetie pie, the woman said, the locals like to call this here town, 'Hell'".

Oh, that was comforting. Dean, without hesitation continued.

"speaking of, where are the locals? This place looks like a ghost town."

The woman chuckled a little. "Why do you think they call it hell, son?" she said as she stepped away to check on our food.

Dean and I both looked at each other, confused and a bit nervous. We then heard the dinging of the bell that hung over the door, the one that alerts them someone new had entered. But the door never opened, no one came in.

"Be right there," the lady yelled from the back.

Dean and I were still a bit confused and could feel every hair stand on our arms. I went to take a sip of my drink but Dean put his hand between my mouth and the straw, covering my cup so I couldn't drink it. I looked up at him and he gave me a look that said not to drink it, that something just didn't feel right to him. His eyes shooting back and forth across the room, scanning all the booths that lined the walls. He was completely silent. Listening with every bit of attention he could give to the silence.

I knew my brother well enough to know not to question him when he got this way.

"What'll it be? Your normal?" the lady asked, looking away from us, as she carried us our food.

"ma'am" Dean spoke up again as she laid our plates in front of us. "Who are you talking to?" he asked.

"Oh, sweetie, it's just Henry, he's one of our local folks." She said with a smile.

"I don't see anyone." Dean replied.

"You will soon enough, sugar, now eat up, your food's getting cold." she said, again smiling as she walked away.

Dean and I both looked at each other again, curiosity hitting us like a ton of bricks. Dean looked around for any sign of where we were, there were none. No pamphlets, no "you are here" maps, nothing. Not even a name of a city or state on the diner advertisement signs.

"How can a town not have any indications of where it's at?" I whispered.

Instead of receiving a reply, Dean just stared, long and hard, at a booth behind me. He would glance away quickly, wait a minute, then look back up. Absent minded, paying attention to whatever he thought he was seeing or hearing, he reached down, and before I could stop him he had his cheeseburger in his hand and had taken a bite.

"Dean!" I said sternly but quietly.

I watched the expression change on his face as he realized what he had done, he decided to finish it, he had already chewed it so he might as well swallow it. Once he finished that bite he whispered to me.

"If anything happens to me, if I become invisible or something, you'll know why."

I rolled my eyes at him, at the thought of him becoming invisible but his tone was serious. He continued to whisper, I was guessing it was so all the invisible people that he thought had eaten the food couldn't hear him.

"I have a bad feeling about this place." He continued. I had to agree with him there. It didn't give me a good feeling either. "Let's get the outta here, Sammy."

I was more than happy to agree. He stepped to the counter to pay for our bill.

"Leaving so soon?" The old lady asked.

"Yes ma'am." Dean replied, my brother isn't feeling so well, guess we've spent too long in the car." he chuckled.

"But you only ate one bite." she sounded a little disappointed.

"yes ma'am, I gotta get my brother down the road, so he can rest, we're heading to our grandma's and she was expecting us a couple hours ago."

He was hoping she would understand that and believe his lie without stopping us any further. He paid the bill, as we walked past the booth he had been staring at he gave a quick nod, as to say, "see you later". I grabbed my phone out of my pocket as we walked outside, hoping I could figure out exactly where we were at.

"Great, no service." I said when I saw no bars on the screen of my phone.

The sun was bright, and hot that day. The same sun that we had sat in the coolness of the morning and watched rise. Dean stopped and stood in the space between the diner and the car, staring up at the sun.

"Dean?" I was becoming concerned about my brother's behavior.

"I don't feel so well."

"Let's get you out of this town then we'll worry about that." I said as I helped lead my brother to the passenger side of the car and pushed him into a seated position, closing the door and making my way to the driver seat.

I tried, then tried again, the damn car wouldn't start. Dean didn't seem to be concerned, this was his Baby, he would be furious if it didn't start for no reason at all. She had a half tank of gas. Hadn't had any problems out of her, but for some reason it wouldn't start.

"Let's just walk, okay Dean?" I was really wanting to get out of this town. "We'll call a tow truck once I get service." I got out, grabbed our duffle bags from the trunk, helped my absent-minded brother out of the car and started walking, half dragging him beside me. "Come on Dean, you gotta help here." I said as I struggled to hold the bags and his weight.

He didn't seem to know what was going on. Was there really something in the food? Had he been right? We were walking in the same direction we came from, I knew it would lead us out of town. I wasn't sure what was ahead so I figured it best to go back to where we were more familiar with.

"Dean!" I said irritated. "Could you please help carry your own weight?"

I was beyond frustrated as he felt heavier and heavier with every step we took. When we drove into this town we drove straight to the diner, there were no streets or business, or even houses, that we passed, it was like the diner was the town. I hadn't noticed it until now, as we walked we passed a library, bank, post office, all appearing to look empty. No towns people anywhere to be seen. Then, we came to a motel. There were people there. Only a few, but still, people, well actually, there were cars parked outside the rooms, but the only person was the young man at the counter.

As I drug my brother into the lobby, "excuse me sir" I said to the man, "Could you please tell me where we are? Our car won't start and I need to call for a tow truck."

"No phone gonna work out here. I can getcha one of them there mechanics, Billy Joe, he's a good un" the man said.

"My brother and I are trying to get to our grandma's, she's been expecting us," I said, repeating the story Dean had told, "so we really need to be going."

"Your brother there," he said pointing at Dean who was slumped in a chair, dazed, sweat starting to roll off his forehead. "doesn't look too good" the man finished.

"Um, yeah, that's why I need to get him to our grandma's" I had to agree, he wasn't looking so well and I was quickly becoming more and more concerned about his wellbeing.

"How's 'bout I put you two up in a room for the night and Billy Joe'll fix er car right up fer ya." the man had such a hillbilly accent.

I didn't want to stay. Dean was the one who originally said we should go. "It's early enough I'm sure we can walk." As I turned and looked out the windows I noticed it was now pitch black! It was just hot, and sunny, now it looked like the middle of the night.

"It's purdy late, I'd suggest ya stay, you never know what the night might bring."

"Okay, fine we'll take a room." I agreed, I wasn't sure what was going on but I knew I needed to figure it out, or at least let Dean rest. And, I couldn't let the man see my growing concerns. "By the way," I added "Can you tell me what town we're in?"

"you'sa in Hell" the man said with a smile as he handed me the key to our room.

Great, just great, the one town we happened to end up in was full of crazy people who called the place Hell. I helped Dean back to his feet and into our room, making sure the doors and windows were locked up tight, putting salt lines across every entry and around the beds. I wasn't sure what was going on but I was going to make sure we were safe. I drew devil traps and images to ward off evil things on the walls, door and floor. I knew it would be useless, but I pulled out my laptop, just to see if there was any service, of course not, no service anywhere.

"Dean?" I sat beside him on the bed I laid him on. "Dean, I need your help!" I really did need him right now.

"Huh?" he replied, still appearing half minded, but I would take what I could get.

"I'm not sure what the hell is going on here, man, there's no internet, no phone service, no way to figure out where we are or what we may have walked into." I had to shake him by his shoulders to bring him back to reality. "I need your help Dean. I need you right now, please help me." I said in a pathetic pleading way.

"Okay, okay." He opened his eyes wider, attempting to focus on what I was saying. "What's going on Sammy? I don't know what's going on." he said, confused. "Damn, they need to quiet down their party or I'm gonna call the front desk."

I listened for a moment… silence. "Who?" I said confused.

"The people in the room next door, and obviously they extended it outside their room."

"Dean, there's no one, I don't hear anyone"

"How the hell can't you hear them?" he said as he got off the bed, unlocked the door and opened it.

I followed behind him, no one was outside, no sign of life anywhere. He slammed the door shut, quickly locked it back. He was shaking. His hands were shaking. He was scared. I hadn't seen my brother this scared in a long time.

"Sam!" he said, his voice sounded scared too, panicked. "Sam, I swear, I swear I hear them!" he said, panic rising. "I can hear the music, and people laughing, clinging of glasses. Its muffled through the walls, like it normally would be. The voices from outside are louder and clearer. I swear to you Sammy, it sounds like they are right outside our door. It sounds like people, having a party." He turned and looked at me, desperation in his eyes, "Don't you hear them Sammy? You gotta hear them!"

"I don't, Dean, I don't hear anyone but you. Did you see anyone? When you opened the door did you see anyone?"

"No!" he replied with fear. "That's the thing, I can hear them like they are right there but I couldn't see anyone. What's going on Sammy?" he grabbed fists full of my shirt that covered my chest. He was legitimately scared. "What's wrong with me? I'm scared, Sammy, I'm scared. I don't know what's going on." He said, panic rising even more in his tone.

I tried to keep my tone calm and even. "It's okay Dean, it's going to be okay. We'll figure this out, okay?" Dean leaned forward so his face was pressed into my chest between his fists.

"Make it stop, Sammy. I need it to stop."


	10. Chapter 10

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 10

I had never felt so alone in my life. I usually had at least one person I could call, if not I always had Dean. But, right now I felt like I had no one. Pull yourself together. I thought to myself. You gotta figure this out!

"Okay," I said audibly, thinking out loud. I sat Dean up to look at me. "Dean, I really need you to help me here, okay? You with me?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. So," I began "you can hear them and I can't, right?" Dean nodded his head as I continued. "The only thing different is exactly what we expected, something in the food. You wouldn't even let me drink the water, you had a feeling, and your feelings are usually right." Dean again nodded in agreement "Okay, you can hear them but not see them… ghosts?" Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe."

I continued my verbal thoughts, "or maybe it's the head injury? Dean! Why did you get sick this morning?" I stopped, turned on my heels to look at him, waiting for his reply.

"I don't know."

"I need you to think man."

"Okay… I was startled by something, I think, maybe? And when I was, I jumped awake and I instantly felt sick to my stomach, my head felt like it was swimming. I guess I just assumed it was because I sat up so fast?"

I thought for a minute after he finished explaining. "Do you know what startled you?" I asked.

Dean shook his head no as he replied "Maybe a noise? Or… no, it… I felt like something… someone touched me. Like a prickle down my arm."

Okay, that just added to the mystery. "Okay, maybe whatever this is contacted you this morning?"

"But you're the one who drove here." he reminded me.

Damn it he was right, but… "But you're the one who drove us to this area. Dean, when you took over driving last night, why did you do that? You weren't up for driving, you weren't feeling well, then all the sudden you decided to drive. I figured it was because you were being hard headed and didn't wanna stop for the night. Honestly, I figured it was because you didn't want to be in a motel with me, not after, well, you know…" I paused then continued, "You even said so yourself, but what made you decide to drive instead of just having me continue on?"

Dean sat there, thinking long and hard, trying to remember the night, the reason why he drove. "I'm not sure Sammy. I just had this urge to drive, like everything was fine, my head felt like normal, I didn't feel sick or dizzy, I felt like myself…." His thoughts trailed off but he continued to talk. "Or maybe, I just felt like nothing at all? Not myself, but not anyone else either?" He was beginning to confuse himself. "I just wanted to drive. But, it was like I had a destination, a goal in mind, but it was also like we weren't going anywhere, just down the road, to escape the day." He looked at me, brows crinkled in confusion, his eyes begging me to make sense of his words, to help him not sound so crazy.

"Okay," I said as I sat beside him, placing a gentle, comforting hand on his leg. "Now, I need you to really think Dean. Do you remember anything while we were at the dinner last night? Anything at all? Anything out of the ordinary? A touch? A taste? A smell? Anything?" I stopped to allow him time to think. While he was thinking I had helped him remember events, "I know you didn't eat much, you only finished half your food, which isn't normal for you at all. You were quiet, you were extra quiet, even for you, through most of the ride, but even quieter at the diner. I assumed you were mad at me, or in pain or something… but… maybe not?" I questioned, thinking out loud again.

"I wasn't mad at you, that much I know." Dean quickly replied. "I was fine, honest I was, I had a slight headache the whole evening, and if I moved too fast it felt like my head would sway, giving me a sick feeling, that's why I let you drive for so long. I knew my reaction time would be slow because I didn't want to even think about moving my head too quickly."

He stopped to think a little longer then continued, "I was tired. The medicine they gave me made me tired so I figured I would just try to sleep the meds off. When we stopped, I was starting to feel dizzy and sick again. I figured food would help. But it didn't. I… I got angry. I don't know why. That's why I didn't want to talk. I… I remember not wanting to look at anyone, I felt like the anger would shoot out of my eyes and everyone would know, but I don't know what I was angry about. Maybe because as we were walking in, the man who was walking out bumped into me? I remember looking up at him and just seeing a hateful look on his face but I decided I was in no shape to fight so I let it go."

Okay, maybe he had just stumbled onto something? "Dean, this is important, okay? I need you to really think, when he bumped into you did you feel anything? Maybe something poking you, or burning, anything?" I didn't remember seeing anyone but I wasn't doubting my brother's words.

He shook his head no then said, "That's what made me angry, that's when I started to feel it. By the time I was ready to leave I was feeling good. Well, not good, good, more like the nothingness I told you about, but I wasn't hurting or feeling sick, that's when I drove. I remember feeling like I had to drive because I knew where we were going and you didn't… only I don't know where we are." He stopped talking as he looked around the room.

"Dean, this man who bumped into you, what did he look like?"

"He was younger, dirty blonde hair, straight hair. He was skinny, about average height. He had on a red plaid flannel, looked hillbilly as shit!"

As soon as Dean said that last part I was shocked. He just explained that hillbilly hick that checked us into the motel room. I wasn't any closer to figuring things out but I was starting to put things together. "Dean do you remember when we checked into this room?" I asked, hoping he would remember if that was the same man.

"No," he stated "as soon as we walked into the lobby everything went blurry. I didn't see anyone, you said you were going to talk to someone but I didn't see anyone. I just remember having a spacey feeling and then you pulling me out of it, here, in this room."

"Dean, I think you just described the man who checked us in, the one you didn't see. Something isn't right here. But, I can't figure it out. But, I do think whatever it is led you here, somehow, something, connected to you when he touched you, and it led you here."

"But, you drove us here." Dean repeated.

"yes, but you had us set up to where this was the only place we could go." I explained to him.

"Are you thinking ghost?"

"I don't know, when either of us asked anyone where we were at, the only thing they said was 'Hell'."

"This is not Hell!" Dean was quick to chime in, "I've been there, remember? This is not there."

Yeah, I remembered, how could I possibly forget? "If we're looking at ghosts" I continued, "then there must be a grave yard, somewhere. But the man who bumped into you, the one who checked us in, he obviously isn't a ghost, well, I guess we can't be completely sure about that. And what about the two people at the diner? They weren't ghosts either. I mean if they were then we wouldn't be able to see them, right? But, I do think they saw them, and talked to them." I stopped talking as Dean stood from the bed and made his way to our bags,

"Then let's go find it." he said.

"Dean, the man who checked us in said we needed to get a room because there's no telling what comes out at night."

"What? Like ghosts?" Dean mocked me "when has that ever stopped us?"

He had a point. It hadn't stopped us before, hell, that was our job, that's what we lived for. They didn't know who they were messing with when they messed with a Winchester. Armed with our weapons, we made our way quietly out of the room, once Dean said the voices sounded like they were all muffled and no one was outside. We didn't have a clue where to even begin to look, we snuck around buildings while Dean listened for voices. Then, he suddenly stopped, and pointed to the middle of town, to the middle of the road. I wasn't even sure where all these buildings came from but I knew I enjoyed the safety of them.

"Right there." he said as he pointed to a spot in the road. "That's where we dig".

I tried to explain why that was a stupid idea but he insisted that's where it was at, that's where we would find what we were looking for, whatever that was. Knowing Dean wasn't fully recovered yet, we agreed that I dig exactly where he said while he watched guard, listening for anything that he could hear but I couldn't. He heard things, he shot off a couple rounds of rock salt while yelling at someone, or something, to stay away. He couldn't see them, but he could hear where they were coming from.

"I found something Dean!" I yelled after about 15 minutes of digging. It wasn't buried very far down. It was a metal grate on hinges. "Help me open this thing" I strained out while trying to pull it open. Dean hopped in and together we managed to get it pulled open. It led to a set of stairs.

"Let's do this." Dean sounded determined as he grabbed the weapons bag and started his way down the steps.

"Dean, Dean," I whispered, "slow down man" but he didn't have any interest in slowing down. Once at the bottom of the steps he lit his lighter, trying to find something to use for light. Where were we? In a cave of some type?

"The voices are so loud." Dean said.

There on the wall beside the steps was a torch, like it was meant to be there, to light the way. Dean lit it and quickly the area began to come into focus. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! It was an underground town, buried, hidden. It was identical to the one above ground, as we walked around, in and out of the buildings, there were bodies, long decayed. In the motel, the same motel we were staying in, behind the checkout counter was the remains of what looked to be a young man, with what was left of his red, plaid shirt hanging off his bones, a few locks of dirty blonde hair still attached to his scalp. Dean walked to the room beside the one we were staying in. when he pushed the door open the room was full of human remains. Old whiskey bottles and shot glasses laid around the room. It looked as if someone was in the middle of a party. The same party Dean heard perhaps? Parked outside the motel was the same row of cars that I saw above ground.

We walked past the bank and the post office, to the "Granny's cooking" when we walked into the diner it wasn't empty like I had remembered it. In the booth that Dean had nodded his head at, the one he kept staring at, was a family who appeared to be eating their dinner, a mom and dad with what looked to be two little boys, from what I could tell of their remains. In the booth behind them was another human remain with an old light blue, striped, service shirt on, the name tag read "Billy Joe". I couldn't believe it, I was in complete shock as I looked around the diner, the booths full of human remains. The one we had sat in was empty.

"What happened?" I asked, not expecting Dean to know the answer. "It looks like all these people were going about their normal day then WHAM they were dead."

"I don't know." Dean said as he walked behind the counter and saw, laying on the floor, the remains of the old woman who took our order, and by the cooking station was the man that had cooked our foods.

"STOP IT!" Dean yelled out as he sunk to a fetal position on the ground, throwing his hands up to cover his ears. "Too loud, Sammy. I can't hear them all at once. Make them stop, please, make them stop."

"It's okay Dean, it's going to be okay. I need your help to make it stop okay?" Dean nodded his head but no other movement came from him. "Okay, we have to salt and burn, Dean, we have to salt and burn the entire town. I need your help, there's too much for me to do alone. I need you to ignore everyone but me. Okay, do you think you can do that?"

Dean nodded his head yes again.

"Okay, good, it's okay if you hear them, okay? Just ignore them, Dean. What we need to do is find everybody we can find and salt them, then we will set the whole town on fire. Sound like a plan?" I had hoped he could hear me over the other voices.

"Yeah, gimme the salt so I can shut these sons of bitches up." He said as he grabbed the salt and started on his mission.

It was heartbreaking. I just couldn't understand it. Men, women, children, even babies, laid where they had lived, hidden from the world, nothing but their decayed remains left of them. I couldn't help but wonder if this town had always been hidden, or if something, like the plague took over and they locked it up, building something else on top of it. The hidden stairs led me to believe maybe these people were locked in this town, to live out their lives, hidden from the world.

Once we had salted all the remains, we double checked to make sure we got them all, and gathered all the gasoline and lighter fluid we could find, we poured it over the bodies, leaving a line that led to the steps. We both paused at the end of the line. Dean lit his lighter, both feeling a little heartbroken, he let his lighter fall to the ground, catching the fluid on fire. We made our way to the top of the steps, pausing to look back before climbing back into the world we knew.

The fire had ignited the buildings, all that could be seen was a big ball of fire as the entire town, its history, its remains, were burning to the ground. We climbed out of the gate, closing it behind us and covering it back with the dirt we removed. Once finished we both stood up and took notice, everything, the entire town we were just at, gone. Baby sat parked beside the road. There was no diner, no motel, nothing, no remains of a ghost town.

I could feel the relief fall over me, it was daylight again, well barely, the sun was starting to go down, bringing darkness with it. Dean opened the trunk to his car, throwing the bags into it and taking a couple warm beers out of the cooler that no longer held ice. He handed one to me and cracked his open, making his way to the front of his car, he laid on the hood,

"Come on, Sammy, lets watch the sunset."

I gave a smile and laid on the hood beside him. What a day we had! It started with us watching the sunrise, only seemed fitting that we end it with the sunset. Hopefully tomorrow would be better I thought to myself, giving myself a half smile, I knew it would be an adventure. That's the Winchester way. But, for now, I was going to enjoy the sunset with my brother, thankful we both made it through another day. Thankful that, no matter what, we would always have each other, even when things get dark, and fear strikes, we still have each other. My thoughts faded with the day's light, drifting into a calming darkness, closing yet another page in the book of life.


	11. Chapter 11

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 11

I don't think either of us planned on falling asleep on the hood of the car that night. But we did. The bright moon shining down on us. A perfect cool breeze blowing through the air. Complete silence besides the crickets and tree frogs chirping. An overwhelming peace that filled the darkness. We both woke, rested, for the first time in a long time. The warmth of the sun's rays shining down on us, waking us in a peaceful, natural way. I'm pretty sure Dean was feeling the same way I was. I didn't want to move. Didn't want this peacefulness to leave, but knowing it couldn't last forever. Dean, finally rolling himself off the hood of the car.

"I gotta pee, man." he announced as he stepped into the row of trees.

I soon followed, stepping to the other side of the tree line to relieve myself as well. Once finished we both walked back to the car. Dean stood outside the closed driver's door, his arms on the top of the car, his body leaned against the door, he gave me a big smile. I couldn't help but smile back.

"What?"

"Dude, we kicked ass!" he said smiling the entire time.

"Yeah, we did."

"Felt pretty good."

"Yup, gotta agree with you there, didn't realize how much I've missed it." I said as I opened the car door and sat in the seat. "I've also missed food, wanna go get some?" I added.

"Hell yeah." Dean replied as he opened his door, sliding in his place behind the wheel. The purr of the engine was perfect right now. Dean seemed happy. I was happy. Everything felt right, finally, everything felt right.

We stopped at the next town, making sure there were signs telling us where we were and that it was a real town. Ordered our regular, but this time, Dean ordered it to go.

"Hey Sammy, how about we get a room and just stay here till tomorrow?"

It was still early, barely breakfast time, the sun had woken us when it rose. "Right now?" I questioned.

"Never mind." Dean replied as he grabbed the bag the waitress handed us with our food in it. "We'll just eat on the road."

I was honestly confused on why Dean would want to get a room and stay put this early in the morning, we had an entire day ahead of us. But then again, it's not like we had anywhere to go anyhow.

"Dean, if you wanna stay put that's fine."

"Naw, we'll see what else is out there." He said as he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

I sat and ate my breakfast, Dean turned his music on, only he kept it quiet, which was not normal for him. But I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because I didn't mind the music when the volume was turned down. The silence became too much, more than I could handle. I didn't want to get into anything personal with Dean, I was afraid I would kill the mood, the happiness he was feeling. Wait. I just realized he didn't touch his food. Now, I was really beginning to wonder why he wanted to stay in that town. Maybe things weren't so great after all.

"I wonder what the story behind that town is." I had to break the silence. I couldn't handle it any longer.

"Dunno."

"Maybe I'll research it and see what I can find out."

"okay." Another one-word answer from Dean. And more silence.

"You gonna eat your food?"

"Not hungry." Was all he replied, then more silence. He drove down the road a little longer, pulling off into a truck stop. "I need a shower and Baby needs a fill up." He said as he parked the car, got out and grabbed his bag from the trunk.

"I'll take care of filling her up while you shower." I volunteered. In agreement to what I had offered Dean threw the keys down in the seat. I fueled her up, grabbed some road snacks and parked the car back in a parking spot outside the door, sat and waited for Dean. I started getting bored. For some reason I thought about that stupid notebook. Began to wonder what else was in it. I popped open the trunk and grabbed it out of my bag. I sat back in the front passenger seat and opened it where I left off.

I hadn't gotten but a few lines into reading it when Dean got back to the car. He threw his bag into the back seat and got behind the wheel. I hadn't noticed he was at the car until he opened the door to throw his bag in. I closed the notebook and sat it in my lap. I tried to tuck it away, like I was trying to hide it or something.

"That thing, again?" Dean said as he started the car and backed out of the parking spot. "Sam, you don't have to hide it, it's not like I don't know you have it."

That's when I noticed I was trying to tuck it away. I felt a little embarrassed, child-like. "I know".

"It's okay Sammy, I gave it to you, for some unknown reason why, I told you that you could read it. It's okay." He may have said it was okay, but if it was then why was he staring so emotionless out the windshield watching the road he was driving on.

Silence once again. I was getting really tired of all the uncomfortableness the silence brought. I opened the notebook and began to read again. This time it was about times we were at Bobby's house. He wrote about how much he loved football and enjoyed going to the park with the both of us. He talked about how happy it would make me when he chased me around and pushed me on the swing. How much I loved playing in the sandbox and rolling around in the grass.

He said it was hard to get the grass stains out of my clothes but it made me so happy he wasn't going to stop me. I remembered some of those times. I truly was happy when we got to be kids. I loved playing and running around for no reason, not running after a monster, just running to run, and laughing, a lot. I remember Dean pushing me on the swings higher and higher. And, I remember how upset I would get when it was time to leave, I was just thankful we were going back to Bobby's and not with Dad. When Dad would come back to get us I would get so mad. I wanted to stay at Bobby's forever, but Dean always had a way to make it better and make me okay with it. He never complained about leaving Bobby's. I sat and wondered if he hated leaving too.

"Hey Dean?" I could see Dean roll his eyes, I could almost hear him think 'great another chick flick moment'.

"Yeah?" he said after I didn't say anything else for a moment.

"Never mind." I said, lowering my head, looking at my lap.

"What Sammy?"

"Nothing."

"Fine, whatever."

Dean sounded agitated. Great. I have now made him upset. I know he wrote a lot about being a screw up, but right now I was feeling like the screw up, nothing I did seemed to be the right thing lately. I heard Dean take in a deep breath with a sigh. "Sammy, what is it?" he asked, calming his voice. "Come on, don't make me beg to have another feely moment" He added as he lightly punched my leg. "Talk to me…. Sammy… Ssssaaaammmmyyyy…. Sammy… Sammmmmm" sometimes I forget how annoying my brother can be!

"Shut up!" I finally replied.

"What do you want to know?" Dean asked again.

"I… I was just wondering, after we stayed with Bobby, did you ever get upset when we had to leave? To go back to Dad? I mean, I did, but you don't ever complain about anything, and you always helped make it easier for me so I wasn't as upset, but what about you? Did you even care where we were at? Or did you wish we could stay at Bobby's all the time?"

There, I said it, I asked what I wanted to ask, now I'll just leave it there, I thought to myself. Another deep breath from Dean before he spoke,

"I didn't like leaving Bobby's. But, I knew we had to, or at least I had to. I had to help Dad hunt. I knew that Sammy. I wish that you could have stayed, but Dad insisted you come with us. There were a couple times you stayed at Bobby's while Dad and I were on a hunt and I tried to talk him into leaving you there, letting you stay, I knew you would be taken care of there. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about you, but Dad always insisted we went back and got you."

He took another long drawn out breath before continuing, "The thing is, as much as I wanted you safe, I also wanted you around. I needed you, Sammy. I needed you as much as you needed me, maybe more." He admitted as he paused to wipe the tear that snuck out of his eye. "I needed you to keep me safe." He continued.

"wh… what do you mean?"

"You see, Sammy, when you were around… all that stuff you're reading in that notebook, it was all kept secret. It was quiet, easy in a way. I mean Dad couldn't beat the total shit out of me if you were in the same room, right? But, when you weren't around, like when you were at Bobby's alone, Dad didn't have to hide. He didn't have to be easy, or quiet. There was no one around to witness, or hear anything. He could be as reckless as he wanted." Dean stopped to shake his head a little, like he was shaking some thoughts out of it.

"How so?" I asked, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer but I asked anyhow. He took in a long deep inhale followed by a long exhale,

"Well, like I said, he couldn't beat the total crap out of me when you were around, but he could when you weren't" he repeated.

I wasn't happy with that answer. I knew there was more to it than that. "And?" I said, trying to push him into talking more.

"And…" he started, "… he would… he liked to make me scream. It was a game he played. He would tell me not to, not to make a sound… then he would use… um… he would use different things, depending on where we were at. Most the time, we would be in the woods or somewhere far away from anyone."

He took another deep breath, wiping his hand down his face again, then continued. "One time… he found an old barbwire fence, well a piece of it anyhow, and a big limb that had fallen from an old tree… and he… he wrapped the wire around the limb… he… um…"

Dean started to stumble all over his words, barely able to get them out, barely able to admit what was coming out of his mouth was true, wishing that it wasn't. The pain flooding back into his eyes. He had to stop for a moment to calm his breathing.

"He… beat me with it, it was a game Sammy, training, hunting training… I had to run, run away from a man that was three times my size. If he caught me he would beat me with the stick wrapped in the wire. I could feel…. Slicing into my skin, tearing at my back. When I would get too tired and couldn't run from him anymore he would continue to hit me… at some point he got tired of the stick he made and punched me with his fists, kicked me, took his belt and beat it over my body… just… well… he would keep doing it until it hurt so bad that I would scream, that's what he wanted, even though he told me not to make a sound, he wanted to hear the sounds of the pain he was causing."

Dean had pulled over to the shoulder of the road while talking, unable to see through the tears, having a hard time breathing, panting between words. "It was for training, Sammy, to strengthen me. He said the only way he could train me properly was when you weren't around. I knew what that meant. I knew it meant that I would be getting hurt… bad." Dean's breathing began to calm as he wiped the tears from his face. "Good enough example?" he asked, calmly, turning and looking at me for a response.

I had tears dripping down my face as well. Dean hadn't looked at me the entire time he was talking. I cleared the lump in my throat. "Yeah." What else could I say?

Dean nodded his head that he was good with my answer and pulled back onto the road.

"Dean?" I was finally able to get words moving again.

"Yeah?"

"Can we stop somewhere? For the night?" I asked. The sun was beginning to go down and it would be dark soon. I didn't want to spend another night in the car.

"Yeah." he replied as he drove to the next town.

We found a cheap motel room in the smallest town I had been to. It sat beside the local diner that was part of the only gas station they had. Dean flirted with the girl at the counter, thanking her for the room keys, we gathered our bags and entered the room for the night. Both of us exhausted.

"You wanna shower first?" I asked, looking over at Dean when I asked it. I could see the twinge of pain flash in his eyes. Only for a moment, but it was there, that fear that came with it. I looked up at the still healing gash on his forehead. "Sorry." I said as I lowered my head.

"I took one at the truck stop earlier, go ahead." Dean said, ignoring that I had just apologized for nothing.

I gathered some clean clothes and made my way into the warm shower, hoping not to find my brother an emotional wreck when I returned to his side.


	12. Chapter 12

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 12

I walked back into the room, Dean was laying in his usual spot on his usual bed. He had his eyes closed and his arm thrown over his face, covering his eyes. He hadn't bother removing his outer clothing or even his boots. I knew he was exhausted. I knew I screwed up and made him emotional. I wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep, so I cleared my throat, announcing that I was in the room, so I wouldn't startle him. I sat on the edge of my bed, facing toward Dean, wondering, if he was asleep, should I wake him to undress and get under the covers? Or just leave him be. While I was thinking Dean pulled his arm off his face and turned to look at me, our eyes locked.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

He crinkled his face with confusion. "For what?"

"For everything," I continued "For being a pain in the ass, for being annoying, for hurting you, for not seeing how much you were hurting, for…"

Dean stopped me before I could finish. "whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop it, Sammy. Just stop it, please. You have nothing to apologize for. You're my little brother, you're supposed to be annoying and a pain in my ass, that's what brothers do. And, you haven't hurt me, Sammy, this" he pointed to the healing gash on his head "was an accident, you didn't mean it, I know you didn't. Like I've said a hundred times, and I'll keep saying it, I allowed you to express yourself, I allowed this to happen."

Pointing again at his head he continued. "I knew what I was doing, I knew what you were doing. Did I expect to be knocked out? No. But I don't believe for one minute that you expected it either. And Sammy, there is no way that I would ever let you see the hurt I have." He paused. He just admitted he had lifelong hurts. "I might…" he started stumbling over his words again, "okay, I've… I've let you in… some… I'll admit to that. I've told you things I never thought would be spoken into the air. But… but I can't, Sammy, I can't… show you everything… I can't let everything out. I just can't."

He paused and closed his eyes for an extra-long blink, then continued. "I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to make you feel like you are responsible for anything that I have allowed to happen in my life."

"Allowed?" I said angrily, "Dean, you haven't allowed anything, it's not like you've had a choice or anything."

"Sammy, please, don't get upset, not right now, okay?"

I nodded my head yes, even though I wanted to, I also remembered what happened the last time I lost my temper. Dean continued in a low, even, calm voice, not letting his emotions out, just simply stating facts.

"I'm in control right now. I've been in control. So yes, allowed. Sammy, I never fought back, not against Dad. I always did what he wanted. I did it, all of it, willingly. I did have a choice. I could have chosen not to appease him and take the chance of him turning on you, but I willingly made the choice to allow pain in my life to keep you safe from it. It was a choice that I made, not you, you didn't have any part in that decision. You are not to be blamed for any of it. I could have just as easily chosen to defy Dad and take the chance of you getting hurt." I was understanding what he was saying, it didn't make it any easier.

"Dean," I said low and quiet. "Will you be honest with me?"

"I have been, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you have, but…" I stopped, maybe I should just leave well enough alone.

"But what, Sammy?"

"Will you be honest and…" I couldn't, I was stuttering on my words, not sure exactly what I was trying to ask. "How much do you hurt?" I finally just blurted out.

Dean's face, crinkled in confusion again. "You're gonna have to be a little clearer."

"Like…" I still wasn't sure how to word the question that I wasn't sure I was asking. "I don't think I could be as strong as you, emotionally. I know you drink, a lot, to numb the pain, to hold back the thoughts, to push it away. So… how much does it really hurt? If you didn't have your drinks… would you be able to…. You know… handle it?" I stopped, not sure if that clarified anything.

"Sam," Dean said slowly, "look at me."

I was looking down at the floor, I couldn't manage to raise my head, or look at my brother. Dean had gotten off his bed and knelt on the floor in front of me, placing his hand under my chin, pulling my face up to meet his. I had tears running down my face, dripping to the floor. I watched as Dean's eyes began to water too, as he fought the tears from falling.

"Sammy," he started, slow, calm, "it hurts" he said. "It hurts a lot." He closed his eyes, pushing back the tears, pushing back the emotions that threatened to show. "There's times," he continued. "That I can't handle the memories. There's times that even the smallest thing will trigger a feeling or a memory. A lot of times that happens during a hunt. It's easier when that's when it happens, it's easier to push it away."

He moved his hand off my chin to wipe it down his face, to dry the tears that dripped from his eyes. I continued to look at him, not dropping my head back down. He rocked himself off his knees and into a seated position, on the floor, leaned against his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His hands holding tight to his pants. He closed his eyes for another moment.

"There's days I don't want to go on." He continued. "There's days even the smallest, most normal things will trigger something." he looked around the room and then continued, "motel rooms, even though we stay in them all the time, they can be the worst. There's times I don't want to stay inside the walls, I have to… it takes everything I have to push back the emotions, the memories…. the pain. Sammy, so much has happened within these exact same four walls. So much has happened inside the small little bathrooms." He paused to even his breath out.

I cleared my throat from the lump blocking my will to breath. "What's the worst thing?" I asked, kicking myself after asking it.

Dean drew his attention to my face, "that's happened in a room like this?" he asked, not completely sure if that's what I meant.

"Yeah."

Without hesitation he said, "The night you left."

"Dean, I'm… I'm sorry." I said as I remembered what he had told me about that night.

"Not your fault, Sammy." he continued, his eyes distant, tears flooding them, the look on his face told me he was remembering every detail of that night. "I trusted him." He said. "I trusted him, no matter what he did to me in the name of 'training' I still trusted him. I… I never fought him, not even that night. Not even when I realized what was going to happen. Not even when I realized he was walking out the door, leaving me to God knows what. I never stopped trusting him. I never stopped believing in him. I never stopped believing him. I… I believed what he said, Sammy, a part of me still does. There's so much that I do in my life and Dad's voice rings loud and clear in my head…. Reminding me… reminding me how worthless I am… and what a screw up… I am…"

He paused again, licking his lips and wiping his wet face, running his hand down, covering his mouth for a moment while he closed his eyes while the tears fell. "It hurts, Sammy, a lot. I get so… tired… of feeling like I do… sometimes… I just want it… to stop… I want my… my head to stop… I want to stop… hearing… him… so much. But I can't, Sammy, I can't. I can't make it stop… it won't go away. There's… there's so much… in my brain… so much… in my chest… won't go away… won't go… away… won't…stop."

"Dean," I had gotten on the floor in front of him, calling his name to stop him from talking. "Dean, calm down. Calm your breathing, okay?" I wrapped my arms around my brother, he returned the gesture, grabbing tightly, fists full of the back of my t-shirt.

"I… I can't… it hurts..." Dean mumbled, his tears soaking my shirt and my tears soaking his.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry." I spoke quietly, "I'm sorry I asked. But, it's going to be alright. Right now, you're safe, it's okay to let it all out, it's okay." I said rubbing circles on his back. The only thing I could do was keep repeating "it's okay" over and over while I held my brother. Dean stopped, he gathered his composure and pushed himself away from me. I was shocked when he continued.

"There's so many little things, I think that's what hurts the most, not the big moments." He stopped to see if I was listening, I was.

"Like what?"

He looked over at the sink that shared the same area as the beds. "Like, one time, maybe a couple times, but one time that I remember clearly. I had already put you to bed. I was, I don't know, 9 maybe? I was getting myself ready for bed. Dad was out getting drunk somewhere. I was standing at the sink."

He nodded his head toward the sink. "Brushing my teeth and Dad came in, drunk like always, I tried to hurry and finish. I had the water running the whole time, which for some reason made him mad as hell. He started bitching at me for it, he put the plug in the sink to prove how much water I was wasting. The sink filled up fast. I had asked him to quiet down, so he didn't wake you, which of course he was not happy about. He… he slammed my head down onto the counter, then he put my face in the sink. He held me under the water."

He paused again, to calm his breathing, before continuing. "I remember the panic I felt. The fear when I couldn't breath and he wasn't releasing his pressure to let me up. The more I fought, trying to get my head above the water, the tighter his grip got. I honestly thought I was going to die that night. When I quit fighting, because I was about to pass out. He pulled my head out of the water and threw me on the floor. Told me to get my ass to bed. I was laying on the floor, scared, gasping for air while I coughed and that son of a bitch told me to get my ass in bed."

Anger became evident in his voice. "I almost drown and he was worried about getting me out of his face. That's what he said. He said he didn't want my ugly, cry baby ass in his face, that he couldn't stand to look at me. So of course, I did what I was told. I laid down beside you and didn't move a muscle the rest of the night."

In a crazy way I enjoyed listening to his stories. It gave me insight into things I didn't know, like learning about people for the first time. But, it also broke my heart, and I know it wasn't easy for Dean. "Dean", seems I've been repeating his name a lot lately, he looked up at me and I continued. "You don't have to talk anymore. Even if I ask you a stupid question, you don't have to answer it, okay? It's okay. I don't want to keep doing this to you."

"Doing what, Sammy?"

"Making you relive some of the worst parts of your life, bringing back the memories and emotions that you've tried so hard to push away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask you anything that would hurt you, but I have, and I keep doing it. So, you can stop answering, if you want to."

I hoped he understood. It's not that I didn't want to listen to what he had to say, or allow him to get it all out so he's not carrying it around anymore, I just didn't want it to bring him pain.

He chuckled a little bit after I finished talking, "it's better than holding a gun to my head I guess." He said while rolling his eyes at himself and wiping his hand down his face to dry any remaining tears.

"Hell, let's do this! Let's just get it all out!" Dean exclaimed. "Why the hell not, huh?" he added, "but first, first my annoying, pain in the ass little brother needs to walk next door and see what kind of booze you can find." He said as he pushed himself off the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. "What'cha waiting for?" he asked me as I stood and sat on my bed.

"Dude," I replied, "I'm in a t-shirt and underwear."

"And? You forgot how to put on pants?" Dean asked sarcastically as he stood and headed for the door, "fine, I'll go myself" he said as the door closed behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 13

It seemed like Dean was gone forever. I was beginning to regret ever opening my mouth. Ever asking the first question to start this emotional roller coaster. But, Dean had said he was in control. I believed him. He seemed calm, well, besides the breakdown with the gun, but that was before we had started talking. I figured he was in control even during those moments because he had enough restraint not to pull the trigger. Not to say he didn't come close.

I began wondering, again, how much pain my brother must have to come to that dark of a place in his life. I got tired of sitting around, in the silence. I pulled the notebook out of my bag, propped myself up on pillows against the headboard on my bed, and began reading again.

I hadn't gotten very far in reading before Dean came back into the room. His arms were full of paper sacks, that I could only assume held bottles of booze. I glanced up from the notebook to see him walk in.

"That thing again?" Dean said when he looked over and saw me holding the notebook.

I just drew my attention back to the book and started reading again. He sat the bags down, I heard him rustling the bags, I assumed removing the bottles from it. I hadn't realized he walked over to my bed until he had placed his hand on the book I was reading and pulled it out of my hands, laying it, closed, on the bed beside me.

"Hey!" I said a bit surprised and annoyed that he disturbed me.

He sat down, drink in hand, handing me my own. I took it, even though I didn't really care about drinking as much as he did.

"What'cha wanna talk about?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, someone didn't let me finish what I was reading." I had a hateful, irritated tone in my voice, I wasn't sure why, but there was no mistaking it.

"Sorrryyy Mr. grumpy!" Dean replied, noticing my irritation.

"Sorry." I replied, sheepishly, once I realized how hateful I sounded.

Dean remained seated beside my feet on the bed. I looked up at him as he rubbed his hand down his face, appearing drained and exhausted. He took another big guzzle of his drink, finishing the bottle, sitting it on the floor and picking up another one he had sitting beside him. He took a long-ragged breath, opened his bottle and took another swig. I sat, watching him, for a moment.

He took in another deep breath, repositioned himself on the bed so he was turned, sitting Indian style, looking at me. He took another drink. Silence pierced my ears worse than any words could have. I wasn't sure what words to say to break the silence. Dean wasn't helping any, he didn't say a word, just stared back at me. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him, a million stories I wanted him to tell. I wanted him to start from day one, detail by detail, telling me about every day of our lives, the parts I know about and the parts I didn't.

But, how could I expect him to do that? There were moments in my life I kept from him. Thoughts I never expressed. Moments I held back and shoved away. Why was I expecting him not to do the same? My brother, who had built a wall around himself, hiding every bit of himself. Keeping his life, his mind, his feelings, a secret from the world. Here he was, opening himself to me. Allowing me to send him down an emotional road, just to satisfy my own needs. I knew he didn't need this. I knew he didn't need to be reminded of the pains he has suffered through. But, my selfishness wouldn't leave well enough alone. I kept pushing him, hell, I even almost killed him.

With that thought, I looked at the still healing gash in his head. The stitches were removed. Most of it was healed, or at least scabbed over. The fractures healing, the bruises on his face gone. It almost killed him, he was so wounded by life he never gave it a second thought. Never thought of facing death any different than anything else he faced day to day. It was just part of life. Part of his life.

"Well," Dean spoke, finally, breaking the silence. "Let's see, we've already talked about how adorable you were as a baby." He said, reaching over and messing up my hair, causing my face to scrunch up.

"Adorable?" I said, a little shy.

"Yeah," he said, looking me up and down, "I don't know what happened." He added in a playful tone, causing me to roll my eyes and give a little chuckled. "You were the cutest little thing." Dean continued. "Everyone always oohhed and awed over you, everywhere we went. Dad would beam with pride," Dean said with a smile.

"He would?"

"Yeah, Sammy, Yeah. He loved you, so much. When you were just a little thing, toddling around, you would crawl up in his bed, or in his lap on the chair. He just adored you. He would lay you on the bed and tickle you, you had such a cute little giggle. He'd toss you up in the air and catch you in his arms." He was trying to smile while holding back tears, his lips quivering with the attempt to hold a smile. I could tell it almost pained him how much love and adoration Dad had for me.

"What about you?" I questioned, as I watched the expression on his face change.

"He was the same way… with me… before…Mom." he stopped, holding back the tears again, forcing the same quivering smile.

"What about after Mom was killed?" I questioned. Dean's expression changing again as he took a long drink, finishing that bottle, he sat it on the floor beside the other one and let himself fall onto his back on the bed.

"The day," he began, "the day Mom was killed, the moment Dad placed you in my arms, I had to grow up. I wasn't a kid any more. I couldn't be."

He stopped to take a deep breath, brushing his hand through his hair. He propped himself on his elbows, so he wasn't lying flat anymore, and continued. "Sammy, the important thing is that Dad loved you. He played with you, not that you gave him much of a choice once you started walking. You would climb all over him when he was home. Dude, I was so happy for you when you learned how to walk, I didn't realize it just meant I was going to have to chase you around everywhere, that you would be getting into everything, all the time."

Dean chuckled as the fun memories filled him. "You were into everything, I mean everything!" Dean continued as he pushed himself off the bed to retrieve another drink. "Man, you would wake up before I did, or sometimes, all I had to do was leave you alone long enough for me to use the bathroom and you would find your way into something. Once," he paused to chuckle and take a drink, "once, you got yourself stuck under the bed. You decided you wanted to crawl in a little spot under the crappy motel mattress. I wasn't even sure how you were able to fit in there, but you were not coming out!" He paused again for another drink.

"So, how did you get me out?" I asked, amused by his story.

"I had to drag the mattress off, of course the way that shitty bed was made they weren't gonna make it easy for me. I ended up breaking the frame and what they used for a box spring, pulling it apart to drag you out." He stopped for another drink before continuing. "Dude, when Dad got back a couple days later, he was lit!" Dean stopped talking, not meaning to add that part. I knew what he meant. He had talked enough about getting punished for taking care of me.

"What did he do?"

Dean took another drink, "The usual." Yeah, because that cleared everything right up, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. "He yelled, at first." Dean said, finishing his next bottle and retrieving another.

I don't know how that boy can drink the way he does. I would be passed out if I tried to drink that much. Of course, I haven't been drinking with Dad since I was 10.

"Then?" I asked, trying to push more out of him.

"Then nothing." He continued after a drink and deep breath, "until I put you to bed. I knew… I knew that he was going to do more than just yell at me. I was expecting it. I didn't know when, but I knew it was coming. After I put you to bed and cleaned the room, after you were asleep…"

Dean paused again for his usual, then continued as he started stumbling over his words, trying to say the right thing. Trying to stay in control of his thoughts and words. "After you were asleep, after I had the room cleaned, I was getting ready for bed and went to use the bathroom before laying down, hoping Dad had forgotten about the events earlier in the day. But, knowing he wasn't going to. He was waiting for me to finish. When I was done and stepped out of the bathroom, Dad was waiting for me, and pushed me back into the bathroom once I opened the door."

Another pause, another drink, another deep breath. "I had fallen to the floor, he knelt on top of me and started punching me, but…his words hurt worse than the punches. Sammy, I hated constantly, hearing Dad's words, hearing how much of a piece of shit I was. I could handle his fists, hell that was easy to get used to. That was a normal part of my day, with or without Dad around the daily physical pain, was just a normal part of my day. A normal feeling, one I became comfortable with." He paused, a little shocked at himself.

He brushed his hand down his face, taking in a deep breath, guzzling the entire bottle in his hand, standing to get another one. When he returned he sat on the edge of the bed across from me. His last comment had gotten my full attention. What was he talking about? Even when Dad wasn't around? A million more questions popped into my head. Concern filling my bones with the confusion that set in. The question that had been screaming in my head for so long, screaming louder, how much pain was he really in?

"Dean" I said, planning to ask him what he meant.

He stopped me, "Sorry, Sammy." He said, continuing, "Anyhow, that's what happened. I got the crap beat out of me and yelled at, again. You know, the normal." Another drink, another pause, as he rubbed his face with his hands. Fighting back any sense of emotions.

"Dean," I repeated, only to be stopped by him again.

"Sammy, don't, okay? Just, don't." He was almost pleading. "Know how I said if you pushed me to far I would stop you?" He pushed himself off the bed and headed to the relieve himself in the bathroom.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm stopping you."

Pausing to finish up, he then returned to the edge of the bed across from me. I swear I don't think he has sat still since he came back from the store. He has changed positions at least 20 times. He took a deep breath again, finishing the bottle in his hand, getting yet another. I couldn't believe he wasn't plastered by now, but he continued talking as he leaned himself against the headboard.

"Dad, Sammy, Dad was a sadistic son of a bitch." He paused to take a deep breath. I didn't interrupt, I wanted him to finish what he had to say. "He…he would always do something…. I didn't even have to do anything. I could be sitting on the floor, playing with you, he would walk by and hit me in the back of the head. If I was standing and he walked past me he would push me over. I could be at the sink and he would slam me into the counter, or the wall….so many times."

He paused again for another long drink. "So many times, he would do little things, like catch me off guard and grab my throat, shoving me into the wall, or onto the floor. I stopped closing the door when I used the bathroom because when I opened it, he would be waiting… waiting for me… he would do something… every time… like push me back into the room, onto the floor, or shove me against the wall. He would hold me against the wall with one arm, punching me in the side or stomach, or where ever he felt like, with the other hand. No reason… except…"

Another long drink, "I learned, Sammy, I learned how to protect myself. I learned how to avoid contact, how to wait, move at the last second, I learned if I moved too soon he could adjust his punch and I'd still get hit. I learned how to pay attention to 2 things at the same time. I could pay attention to you and him at the same time. Making sure to keep a constant eye on him."

He paused, again, the same routine. "Sammy, he may not have seemed like the nicest person, but… but I learned what I needed to learn. It keeps me safe when I'm hunting. It's the hunting skills… it's how I learned them." He stopped. I could tell he wasn't sure what to say next.

I sat in silence for a moment. Then I spoke, "and what did chasing you around with a barb wire stick teach you?" I couldn't believe I just brought that up. I was a little irritated that he kept making everything Dad did seem like there was a reason behind it, a reason besides being an abusive ass. Dean let out a sigh, then proceeded to answer my question.

"It taught me how to run, how to hide. Sam, the monsters that we fight out there, they are stronger, and bigger, than we are. Just like Dad was, when I was younger. He taught me how to get away from them, how to keep myself hidden. How to keep myself from being hurt, or worse, killed." He stopped, that was his answer and I was supposed to just accept it.

"And… and when he caught you? When you got tired, or couldn't hide from him anymore?" I asked, even more annoyed.

"It taught me to keep going, to push through the exhaustion."

He wiped his hand down his face. I remembered that I had noticed how exhausted he looked earlier. This, this is what he meant. This is what he was talking about. Even as exhausted as he was, he was pushing through, for me, at this very moment.

"It also taught me to take the pain, the injuries, and fight through them." He continued before he was done. He took a couple more, big swigs from his bottle. A tear dripped from his eye. He was lost in thought, didn't even wipe the tear away.

"Dean?" I said, with no response, repeating myself, "Dean?"

"Yeah." he responded after the second attempt.

"You okay?" I asked, concerned about his sudden quietness and gazed demeanor.

"No." he answered honestly, not moving, not shifting positions for the first time all night. "I'm tired." He continued. "I'm going to go to sleep now, Sammy." he said as he laid down on his bed.

His back turned to me. He already removed his boots but didn't even bother to remove his pants or make an effort to place himself under the covers. I wasn't sure what to do, what to say. I had pushed him so hard. He really did have control over the situation, until now. Now that he was broken, I wasn't sure what to do to fix it. I couldn't make him 'talk it out', that's what caused the problem in the first place, me and my stupid questions.

"Dean." I finally got his name to come out through the lump in my throat, through the tears that were welding up in my eyes.

"Don't Sammy." he said, mumbled. "Please, just don't. Not right now. I'll be fine." He assured me, I'm sure he could feel my doubt from across the room. "I may not, at this specific moment, be okay, but I will be." He added, making me feel more comfortable with his reply. "I just… I need to stop." He said, almost pleading me to not push him anymore. "I need a break. I need… this… my head… everything in my head… I need it to stop… I need it to stop before I can't control it anymore… I'm sorry Sam, I thought I could… but I can't. I'm sorry." He stopped. Unable to go on. "I need to sleep." He finally finished what he was saying.

"Okay, Dean."

I got off my bed, retrieved a spare blanket kept in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the room, and placed it over my brother. Giving him warmth and comfort without needing to put any more effort into surviving the night.


	14. Chapter 14

**CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD**

 **THE ROAD CONTINUES**

CHAPTER 14

A loud scream woke me up. I quickly shot up to a seated position, noticing Dean doing the same. I looked over at him. Shock on his face, sweat pouring off him, his hair was soaked, he body shaking, his eyes full of fear. He had woken from another nightmare. Uncontrolled shaking. His fists balled as tight as they could be. His jaw was clenched closed. He drew his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth in the spot he sat, labored breathing, panting, unable to catch his breath, breathing. Moaning coming silently from his locked lips.

When I sat on the bed beside him, I could feel he was sweating so much that the blankets and pillow he laid on felt soaked. His body still hasn't slowed its shaking, his breathing was still uneven and labored. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, not expecting the shocked, fearful, jumpy reaction I received back. I knew instantly that touching him was not the best idea. He was still lost in his dreams, in the memories that flooded his sleep, in the pain that accompanied it.

"Dean." I said quietly. Trying to pull him out of the state he was in, without startling him. "Dean?" I said a little louder. He was still lost, lost in his past. Lost in the hurtful memories that plagued his mind. I repeated his name a couple more times, with no response. He was awake but he wasn't present and the moment. I waited a few short moments and attempted to call his name again.

"Dean, man, come back to me." I said as I placed my hands on both his shoulders, giving him a slight shake, holding him still when he tried to jump away from me. I had positioned myself so I was seated in front of him. He lifted his eyes to meet mine. He had a blank stare, eyes that were full of pain and fear. As he continued to make eye contact with me I could see him coming back around, pulling out of the state he had woken in. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to regain himself, trying to understand what was going on, trying to blink the confusion away. Once I knew he was mostly back to himself I attempted to help him understand what was going on.

With my hands still on his shoulders I spoke, "Dean, you okay man? You back with me?"

The expression on his face told me he was, told me he was back with me enough to not know what had happened.

"You had another nightmare." I said gently. "You woke up screaming. You were still lost in your dream. It took me awhile to get you back around."

I waited for him to soak in the words I had just said as he began to understand what had happened, began to remember his dream, began to become more comfortable with the situation.

"You good now, bro?" I asked, knowing he wasn't but wanting to get a response from him, trying to get him completely back to reality.

He slowly shook his head yes as the confusion began to sink away. He tried to lay back down, but was shocked, and confused again, to find the place he was lying, soaked in his sweat. He swiped his hand through his hair, feeling the sweat that remained. He wiped his hand down his face, drying it the best he could. His hands still trembling. His breathing not completely back to normal. His eyes still lost.

"Dean." I repeated, trying to keep him from slipping back away. "DEAN!" I shouted at him, noticing him less aware of his surroundings, again. "Dean, talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours? What were you dreaming about?" He blinked a couple times, bringing himself partway back, "Dean, talk." I said in a demanding voice. I didn't mean to sound so much like Dad, but I needed him to talk to me, to stay in the present world, with me.

"I… I was 12…" he started, "I was 12 years old." He paused. "When… when… when you left, it wasn't ttthe… it wasn't the first time." Another pause, I could tell he was slightly coming back to reality, but at the same time he was slipping into the reminiscing of the past.

"What do you mean, Dean? What wasn't the first time?"

I wasn't sure if I was prepared for the answer, knowing what happened the night I left. He looked up at me, puppy dog eyes, scared, looking so tired, so exhausted, exhausted from life, from the pain he had been dealing with for so long.

"You… you were… Dad let you stay with Bobby." he finally got some words out that made sense. "I… I don't think… Sammy, I don't think you ever knew him." The fact he said my name, I knew he was aware of his surroundings again.

"Who?"

"I… I don't… I can't…. he was one of… ummm… one of Dad's… they hunted… together… sometimes… he wasn't very good. I don't know how he survived." He stopped to wipe the tears coming from his eyes. I didn't interrupt anymore, I let him take his time. He continued, "I was 12 fucking years old! Sammy, 12!" I could hear a hint of anger in his voice. "Dad… Dad didn't give a shit…. Sammy, he didn't care… he… he… enjoyed it. Dad fucking enjoyed it!"

I was a little confused, wanting to ask him to clarify, but I didn't want to interrupt him, or push him further than he could take. "We… we were… we had gotten a room. We just finished a stupid hunt. We… all 3 of us… settled in the room… with drinks… they got so… drunk... I was used to it, Sammy, I was used to Dad's drunk… not… not his… not…"

He trailed off, catching his breath that had become labored and uneven again. "He… Dad… he was showing off… I guess… I don't know… I really don't. He thought it was funny, they both did. Dad was going to show off how well I was trained." Under his breath, barely audible he added, "sadistic son of a bitch".

I sat, paying close attention to every word he said, but also to every movement he made, every sign I could think of, making sure that I could notice if he was being pushed over the edge while he spoke. "First… first… he… he told me to take a shower… when we got back from the hunt. I did. I did what I was told. I didn't close the door. I had learned to never close the door with Dad around. It prevented his sneak attacks. When I… when I finished… my shower… I stepped out of the tub…and… and they were both… standing there, in the room. Dad, he… he grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out of the tub, he dragged me into the other room. I... I didn't know what was going on, I promise you Sammy, I didn't know."

He wanted so badly for me to understand he really didn't know, he wasn't to blame. He only did what he was made to do, only did as he was told. He didn't want to, but he didn't have a choice. I wasn't sure if he was really trying to convince me of that, or himself. I already understood that. I understood it better than he did.

"At first… he… he told me to stand… to stand in the middle of the room. He told me to not make a sound. That was always a sign that he was going to play one of his games, 'don't make a sound until I make it so bad that you don't have a choice' games. I hated those. I hated the way he was. He told me to stand in the middle of the room, naked, I couldn't get dressed. He… he wouldn't allow it. Not even my boxers. I… I had to stand with my arms raised as far as I can… as far as I could… in the air. I had to… I didn't have a choice. He… the… Dad's… I can't say his name, Sammy, I don't know why, but I can't." he was so confused on why he couldn't say it, it was just a name, just a word, but he couldn't get it to come out.

"It's okay." I said, quietly, reassuring him that he was doing just fine and the name didn't matter.

He continued, "He started with his belt, God, I hated that thing! He whipped it across my body, over and over and over. Daring me to move, daring me to acknowledge any pain at all. Then…. He, the asshole, he sat there, laughing, he… it was like he… thought it was funny or something. He volunteered to take over… helping Dad, so he wouldn't get tired. He… he got his own belt… he stood on the other side of me… they both… hit… me… together."

He had paused to catch his breath again before continuing. "I couldn't take it anymore, Sammy, I couldn't… it hurt… so bad! I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand… I couldn't stand there… anymore. As soon as my arms dropped, the rest of my body followed. They… they didn't stop... I laid on the floor, curled up…. Trying to protect myself, I couldn't protect myself from them, Sammy… I couldn't." Tears were flooding down his face, his body shaking uncontrollably. His breath uneven and labored, he was fading away again. I wasn't completely sure if that wasn't a good thing, maybe it would ease his pain? But, maybe it would make it worse?

"I… I don't know… I guess maybe… they got tired of hitting me… Dad had sat on the bed, drink in hand, pulled his pants to his ankles… it wasn't the first time. He… he told me to… to use my mouth, not my hand… I hated that. I hated doing that. But I didn't have a choice, Sammy, I didn't have a choice. I did what Dad wanted. I gave the show to… well until he joined in… he pulled me off… off Dad, his pants down too. He wanted… I had to… if I didn't Dad would have beat the shit out of me. He would have. Sammy, he would have… I don't know which would have been worse… or better."

The shaking of his body calmed, his breathing evened out, all emotion left his voice. He had quiet stuttering over his words, simply stating facts, like he was telling a story about someone else's life. Zoned out into the world of memories. "While I was doing what he wanted, he asked me if I had ever had sex, ever experienced an orgasm. When I shook my head no, I remember his words exactly, he sounded happy he said, 'we are going to turn this boy into a man'. He told me to lay on the bed. To stop what I was doing and lay on the bed. He started doing the same thing I was doing, only he was doing it to me instead. He started feeling around, I could feel the pressure he was pressing. He slipped his finger inside, not stopping what he was doing. The pain was worse than I could have imagined. I kept telling myself it was only a finger, it wasn't that big, but somehow going in hurt worse than anything that could have come out."

It was clear he had completely lost himself in memories at this point. "He told Dad to come over, to join in. He… he told me to fuck him. I put myself inside of someone for the first time, he used his hand to finish himself off while I had my first sexual experience. He had Dad use his finger in me. Dad's hands must have been bigger, or I was just sore, because it hurt a lot worse when Dad joined in. Then it hit, Sammy, it hit me, I didn't know what was happening. It hit me out of nowhere. I started trying to hurry up, make it over with. Faster and faster. The feeling overwhelmed me. I had my first orgasm, Sammy, my first! Every muscle in my body tightened, even the muscles around Dad's finger, God, the pain, mixed with a good feeling. I can't explain it. He… he finished himself off after I had. He… then he…"

Dean had started stuttering again. He was starting to come back around, starting to regain emotion in his tone. "He… pulled himself away… then… then he grabbed me and pulled me away from… from Dad, I didn't even have time to register the pain from being pulled away… he threw me on the ground… I remember… I remember my head hitting the metal rail of the bed frame… then Dad… he grabbed my arm and he… he dragged me across the floor and he, he made me sit… I had to sit on the hard-wooden chair. He knew, Sammy, he knew how much it would hurt. He didn't even give a shit. He… not Dad… J… JA…"

He tried but he couldn't get the name out. "He… asked me the same thing you did…" he paused, feeling the emotions rising, wiping at the tears that were flowing freely. "Sammy," he looked at me, puppy dog eyes, pain filled. "Sammy, he asked me the exact same thing you did. 'Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy being a girl?' I didn't know what to say, Sammy, I didn't know what I was supposed to say, what they wanted to hear. When I didn't answer him, he slapped me across the face so hard I flew off the chair. I remember my head hitting the edge of the dresser then bouncing off the floor. I don't… I don't really remember anything else. I don't know what else happened. I remember them yelling and hitting and kicking me a few times."

I don't think I have ever seen my brother stop to wipe tears so many times in my life. "I don't know. Sammy, you can't imagine the feeling of not remembering, not knowing, if anything else happened, with someone like that… there... I don't know. The next thing I remember. I was dressed, I was in the front seat of Baby, with Dad, driving. I don't remember anything else, I don't remember where or how I woke up in the morning. I don't know if I laid on the floor all night." He stopped, he was shaking uncontrollably again, his breathing not normal. He was still rocking himself back and forth in the spot he sat. His knees pulled to his chest, just rocking, crying. He still had more to say, more he wanted to say. I could tell, somehow, I just knew.

"And then what?" I asked, trying to get him to say what went unsaid. What do you remember next?" I asked, then waited for him to calm down enough to answer.

"He… Dad… he told me… he said, 'just because I'm not around [doesn't mean your training is over'.

"What does that mean?"

"He… he told me that the training he gave me, the stuff he did… to me… that I needed to keep up the training, even when he wasn't around."

"Dean, what does that mean?" I asked again.

"He told me now that I was a man instead of a boy, yeah, like I've had the chance to be a kid, anyhow… he said that the things he did was to strengthen me. He told me a few different things, different ways…" He stopped for a long pause. "Sammy, what do you… do you know anything about… about self-injury?"

I was shocked by Dean's question. I knew a little about a lot of stuff. But, what did his question have to do with him? "I know a little." I replied.

"Sammy, he told me ways, to… to hurt myself… to… to cause pain. Like he would… if he was around… some of it…well the… some of it the same way… the same pain… they caused… at the motel. Some different ways. Ways so no one would know. Not even you, Sammy." He stopped, not sure what to say after that. I wasn't even sure what to say after that. Dean self-injured?

"What the hell man?" I said, not expecting to say anything. I wasn't upset at him, well I was, but I could understand, I could understand where he was coming from. Dean looked at me when I accidently said something. He had a look of shame, guilt. A look that said, 'I'm sorry'. A look I never want to see on my brother's face again. He was filled with so much shame, so much shame of the pain he has experienced.

"Sammy," he finally said, "my first experience was with a man… a man! I tried so hard, after that, to prove I wasn't gay, to prove to myself that I didn't like guys. I don't know why. I never liked guys, not that way. I hated the way it felt. I hated everything about it, I just had to prove to myself that I didn't want a man. I think… I think that's why I've always…I've always been so, free, with the ladies." My God, he made sense. It was all making sense! Everything he had been telling me, everything he experienced in life, it was starting to come together, starting to make sense.

"Dean," I said after a long break of silence.

"Yeah?" he answered, followed by "Why does it seem you have been saying my name so much? And I follow it up with 'yeah'?"

I chuckled at him, knowing he was right. "Maybe because I think your name is so adorable, and you find a need to reply back, knowing I'm right." I said in a playful tone, giving a light slap to his leg.

"Yeah, right, you just wish you could be as adorable as me." Dean said with a quirky smile and sarcastic tone.

The quirky smile and sarcasm that I was used to from my big brother. I had just noticed that the day was more than half over. Where had time gone? We have talked a lot. Dean has talked a lot. He has opened himself up more in the past 24 hours, made more sense than I could have possibly imagined. There was a lot. A lot of pain that was let go of. After weeks of hardship, weeks of poking around my brother's brain. Everything was finally coming to an end. Everything was beginning to make sense. The pieces were falling together. Opening my eyes. My life was making sense.

"Thank you" I said. Dean looked at me a little confused. "Thank you for talking to me, for helping me." I continued, "I felt lost, I felt like my life didn't make sense, like I was missing something. You have helped me put the pieces together, helped me make sense of my life, of our life. Dean, I understand. I can honestly say I understand now. Or, at least, I'm starting to really understand. So, thank you."

Dean seemed a little shocked, shocked that I thanked him, shocked that I could honestly sit here and say I truly understood. He straightened himself out, regaining his composure, the brother I knew shining through again.

"Well, then, since we are done with this chick flick moment, how about you say we go get something to eat? Bitch." he said as he stood to prepare himself for food. I quietly agreed. Glad to have the brother I knew back, but also glad to know him a little better than I ever have.


End file.
